


Magic Incident Team

by paperscribe



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 43,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1679360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperscribe/pseuds/paperscribe





	1. Mnemonic

When Ricky answered the door and saw a police detective standing there, his heart sank. _He knows. How does he know?_

The detective, a man with a careworn face, held up his identification. "Detective Inspector Lewis. I was wondering if you had a moment to talk about Alan Coogan?"

"Of course," Ricky said, stepping aside to let Lewis enter. "Alan Coogan the porter?"

Lewis nodded. "That's him."

Ricky forced himself to smile. "Please tell me he's been cautioned for kerb-crawling."

"He's been badly beaten," Lewis said, tone turning irritable. "He's in hospital fighting for his life."

Ricky feigned shock. "I'm so sorry." He knew that, of course. He'd been there with David; they'd both had a hand in it. Stupid interfering bastard.

"You were seen crossing the quad," Lewis said.

Ricky tamped down his shock. _Someone saw us? Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks._ "I went for a walk. Is that a crime?"

"It is if you attacked Mr Coogan," Lewis said.

Shit. He knew enough that he'd be able to work out everything else. Ricky took a slow, deep breath. There was nothing else for it.

He'd have to work a forgetting charm.

Forgetting charms were technically a third- or fourth-year charm, and Ricky was only in the start of his second year. And that didn't begin to take into account the ethical problems involved. But Ricky didn't want to be arrested, and this was the only way he knew to avoid it.

Ricky stood, crossing to the desk where he kept his books. "Just a moment, Inspector."

He could hear Lewis stand, but he wasn't worried about being caught looking at a charm book. Lewis wouldn't be able to see it as a charm book anyway; he might not see it as a book at all. Ricky read the words of the charm, then whispered them quietly aloud.

"What was that?" Lewis asked. "I couldn't quite hear…"

Ricky turned and gripped Lewis's hand as though they'd been shaking hands; there had to be skin to skin contact for the charm to work. Lewis's expression went from suspicious to surprised to mildly confused in the space of a few seconds.

"What was I saying?" Lewis asked.

"You were just leaving," Ricky said.

Lewis nodded but didn't question the lie. "Yeah. Thanks for your cooperation." He pulled his hand away and left.

If this worked, Lewis wouldn't even remember he'd met Ricky, let alone what had been said.

***

Lewis was filing some paperwork when Hathaway returned to the office. "How was Ricky Clarke?"

Lewis frowned at Hathaway. "Who?"

"A potential witness in the case. You were going to talk to him," Hathaway said.

Lewis couldn't remember that. Must've slipped his mind. "Oh. No, I haven't been."

"We may not need to," Hathaway said. "I've unearthed a new potential suspect."

Lewis nodded, relieved to have the topic redirected from his own flawed memory. "Who's that then?"

"It seems," Hathaway said, "that Mr Coogan has a brother…"

***

At the end of the day, Hathaway and Lewis walked out to the car park together. Lewis stopped, looking confused.

"What is it?" Hathaway asked.

Lewis shook his head. "Can't remember where I parked."

"You didn't," Hathaway said. "Your car's at the garage, remember? I picked you up today."

Lewis nodded. "Right." He fell into step beside Hathaway.

***

Hathaway was dressing for work the next morning when his mobile rang. "Hathaway."

"Someone's stolen my bloody car!" Lewis sounded enraged.

Hathaway frowned. "From the garage?"

When Lewis spoke again, he sounded uncertain. "What?"

Hathaway felt a prickle of fear down his back. "Your car's still at the garage, isn't it?"

"Is it?" Lewis asked, and the uncertainty in his voice was a bad sign. He didn't know. He genuinely didn't know.

Hathaway grabbed his coat. "I'll be right there."

When Hathaway arrived at Lewis's flat, Lewis opened the door in some surprise. "James. What is it?"

"I said I'd be here in a minute," Hathaway said, stomach roiling.

"Did you?" Lewis asked. "When?"

Hathaway looked carefully at Lewis. "Sir, do you not remember that we spoke a few minutes ago?"

Lewis snorted. "I think I'd remember that."

Hathaway's skin was crawling now. "No, I don't think you would."

Lewis looked at him with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"You seem to be having memory issues," Hathaway said.

Lewis shook his head. "I'm not…" He patted his pockets. "Where have I put my keys?"

"Sir, this is the third time in twelve hours I've had to tell you your car is at the garage," Hathaway said, trying not to sound as frantic as he felt.

Lewis looked shaken. "Hathaway, man…you wouldn't joke about that, would you? You wouldn't try to make me think…"

Hathaway shook his head grimly. "No, sir."

Lewis nodded. "How bad is it?"

"I don't know," Hathaway admitted.

"I should see a doctor," Lewis said. "I can't put you at risk."

Lewis was volunteering to see a doctor. Oh, this was bad. This was very bad. 

"I'll drive you," Hathaway said, resting a hand on Lewis's shoulder…

…and the shock of malicious magic almost knocked him backward.

Hathaway yanked his hand away, staring at Lewis. That felt like…that was a forgetting charm. Where the hell had Lewis been that someone had put a forgetting charm on him? And how long had it been there? _Bloody hell, James, some magic student you are. You didn't even notice until today._

"You're not ill," Hathaway said.

Lewis sighed. "Clearly I am."

"No, you're not. You've got…" But Hathaway's voice suddenly refused to work. Shit, he'd forgotten about that. People who knew magic couldn't discuss it with people who didn't, or who hadn't had the charm cast allowing them to see magic; he'd gone without discussing it so long he rarely thought of the prohibition any more. _But he's got a spell on him. Surely that counts?_ But apparently it didn't. James couldn't get out a word about it.

"I've got?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway shook his head. "Never mind."

He didn't know any doctors who knew magic. They'd misdiagnose it; they'd almost have to, because they wouldn't know about it. They'd think it was something to do with Lewis's mental faculties, and the treatment might be as bad as the charm.

Hathaway would just have to hope it wasn't.

***

The minute Lewis had gone into the doctor's surgery, Hathaway phoned Innocent.

"Yes."

"Ma'am, Inspector Lewis is being affected by a forgetting charm."

Shocked silence. "How long?"

"I don't know. Since yesterday at least."

"He still knows you?"

"Yes, but I don't know for how long."

"What case were you working on?"

"The Coogan case. If you could…"

"I'll get the MIT on it," Innocent said.

Hathaway nodded. "Thank you, ma'am. I don't suppose you know someone who could remove the charm?"

"Can't you? Your study was advanced enough."

"Unfortunately not, ma'am. Part of my agreement. I don't suppose you could."

"No. I never studied that sort of thing." A long pause. "I'll see what I can do. But if it gets bad…"

"Yes, ma'am. I know." He hung up.

Lewis emerged from the doctor's surgery only a few minutes after he'd gone in.

"They asked me why I was here," he said, looking bewildered. "I didn't know what to tell them." He looked at Hathaway. "Are we investigating someone?"

"No," Hathaway said quietly. "I think we should go back to your flat."

***

Lewis jerked awake on the sofa. The blond man sitting beside him shifted to look at him.

"Did you sleep well?" the man asked.

Lewis stared at the man. "Who are you?"

The man looked hurt, but only for a moment, and then it was impossible to tell what he was feeling by looking. "It's James."

"Nice to meet you, James," Lewis said, glancing round the unfamiliar flat. "Where are we?"

"Your flat."

Lewis chuckled. "This is never my flat." But he felt a nagging sense of unease at the back of his mind…just enough to tell him something was wrong, but not enough to tell him what the something was. "Is it?"

"Yes," James said.

Lewis shook his head. "I don't…" He looked at James, really looked at him. There was something so familiar about him, if he could only remember. "I know you. Don't I?"

James nodded, and if the question hurt him, he hid it so well that only he would know. "You don't remember."

Lewis shook his head. The thoughts were slippery; every time he reached for them, they skidded away. "I'm trying…"

James touched his arm gently. "I know." He checked his phone for messages, and then, finding none, looked at the door.

"Are we expecting someone?" Lewis asked.

James sighed. "I don't know that we can wait." He looked at Lewis. "Do you trust me?"

Lewis frowned at him. "I don't know you."

James pressed his lips together, nodding. "Of course."

Lewis stared at James, trying to find something, anything, that he knew about this man. He couldn't find anything…but something still told him he should trust him. Slowly, he nodded.

James took Lewis's hands in his. After a moment's silence, he whispered something.

A wave of memories engulfed Lewis. He felt as though he were holding out his arms, trying to catch them all and look through them. There were so many; there was so much he had forgotten.

When his mind cleared, he looked at James…at Hathaway.

"Sir?" Hathaway asked cautiously.

"What the hell was that?" Lewis demanded.

Hathaway laughed a bit shakily.

***

Innocent knocked on the door to Lewis's flat. Hathaway answered.

"Ma'am," he said, looking surprised. "Did you find someone?"

Innocent shook her head. "How is he?"

Hathaway shifted uncomfortably, and in his silence, Innocent knew he hadn't been able to wait.

"Ah," she said.

Hathaway looked glum. "I recognise this means I'll have to be transferred to the MIT. I'd only ask that you let Inspector Lewis know that I…"

"Who are you talking to?" Lewis demanded from inside. He crossed to the door, eyes widening slightly at the sight of Innocent. "Ma'am."

"Inspector Lewis," Innocent said. "May I come in?"

Lewis nodded.

"You're feeling better, I take it?" Innocent asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Lewis said. "Dunno what James did…he won't tell me…but it seems to have worked."

Innocent nodded. "Good." She paused. "If I were to move Sergeant Hathaway to another area, would you want to stay partnered with him?"

Lewis frowned, looking from Hathaway to Innocent. "What is this about, ma'am?"

"I can't tell you any more than I've told you," Innocent said patiently.

Lewis looked at Hathaway, who was trying not to look at him. "If Sergeant Hathaway went to work somewhere else…long as he wanted to work with me, ma'am, I'd like to work with him."

Innocent nodded, resting a hand on his shoulder. "That's all I needed to know." She spoke the words of the quickest charm of all, the one that wasn't taught in school but that everyone who could use magic learned from family or friends.

"What was that, ma'am?" Lewis asked, forehead puckered in a frown.

"I've just made you able to see magic," Innocent said. "Thought it might be useful, as I'll have to transfer you and Hathaway to the Magic Incident Team."

Lewis looked at her, clearly perplexed. "I don't see the humour in this, ma'am."

"I'm entirely serious," Innocent said. "Let me demonstrate." She opened her hand and murmured a few words, causing a small teardrop-shaped light source to appear above her hand.

Lewis goggled. "That's not…" He turned to Hathaway. "Are you seeing this?"

"Yes," Hathaway said. "And…" He whispered a few words of his own, and the illuminated shape of a flower blossomed above his open palm.

"That…" Lewis's gaze flicked between them. "Could you…always do that?"

"No. We learned," Innocent said briskly, closing her hand and dousing the light. "Just like you'll have to learn now you're one of us."

Lewis nodded slowly. Then he looked at Hathaway. "What you did to give my memories back…that was magic?"

Hathaway hesitated, then nodded.

Lewis nodded. "Thanks."

After a while, Hathaway and Lewis were deep in conversation about what exactly had happened to Lewis, and Innocent took this opportunity to look closely at Lewis. She didn't have the creative magical talent some others had, but she could see when spells were still hanging on someone. Hathaway had done a good job; Lewis wouldn't lose any more memories, and many of his old ones had been restored. But there was something else, some part of Lewis that was still missing. She couldn't see clearly what it was, but its absence was conspicuous to her.

"Well," Innocent said briskly, standing, "I'm off home. I'll see you two tomorrow, and you'll get the full introduction to the MIT then. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," the two of them chorused.

She'd get a closer look at Lewis tomorrow at work. Maybe she'd be able to work out what part of him had gone.

She just hoped it wasn't anything important.


	2. Orientation

Hathaway picked up Lewis to go to work the next morning.

"I think you'll be pleased I remember me car's at the garage," Lewis said, sliding into the seat.

Hathaway smiled. "Very good, sir. Should I ask you to list the kings of England in chronological order?"

"Nah," Lewis said with a grin. "Never knew that anyway."

As they approached the nick, Hathaway peeled off round the side.

"Where you going?" Lewis asked, with a quizzical look. "Door's this way."

Hathaway smiled. "Not our door, sir. Not any more."

Lewis frowned but followed Hathaway round the corner. There, in the side wall of the building, was a simple blue door.

"There never used to be a door here," Lewis said warily. "Did there?"

"It was always here," Hathaway said. "This is the first time you've been able to see it."

Lewis nodded. "But you always could." He glanced at Hathaway. "How long have you known magic?"

"Since I was a boy," Hathaway said. "The charm cast on you yesterday was cast on me when I was young."

Lewis nodded. "You must've studied?"

"Colleges of magic exist at both Oxford and Cambridge," Hathaway said. "You only hear about them if you know about magic yourself."

Lewis looked astonished. "An entire secret college? How'd they manage that?"

"Part of the charm allowing someone to see magic makes it so you can't tell anyone about magic who doesn't already know," Hathaway said.

"Why is that exactly?"

"Historically, there was a time everyone knew about magic," Hathaway said. "There were terrible wars and battles for power. Eventually it was decided that having a group of people who didn't know magic would lower the risk of magical dictators."

"And who had the power to decide that?" Lewis asked, tone heavily laced with sarcasm.

"It's an imperfect system," Hathaway admitted. "But apparently it's worked well enough." And if it hadn't, he added silently to himself, the people in charge might very well make sure no one knew about that side of things.

Lewis's gaze returned to the door. "But…I haven't got any magic, yeah?"

"Of course you do. Almost everyone has a little. A person with no training in magic might refer to it as instinct or intuition," Hathaway said. "From what I've seen, I'd assume your magic works through observation and empathy. It helps you understand people."

"What does yours do?"

Hathaway sidestepped the question. "I'm reasonably proficient at charms, but that comes from training."

Lewis seemed to realise something. "Touch. Isn't it?"

And there was that power of observation. Hathaway should've known better than to try to evade the question. "Yeah."

"Christ," Lewis whispered, going pale. "The Zelinsky case. When you found that girl…and I didn't know…"

"I didn't want anyone to know," Hathaway interrupted. "And even if I had, I couldn't have told you."

Lewis nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't understand."

Hathaway shrugged. He didn't want to talk about it. There had been a time when he would've welcomed that discussion…but a lot had happened since then. "We should go in."

Lewis nodded and followed Hathaway through the door. In the Magic Incident Team section of the nick, people were already hard at work, bustling back and forth between rooms, chatting on phones and carrying file folders.

"It looks just like the rest of it," Lewis said.

Hathaway raised an eyebrow. "Of course. Did you think we wore pointy hats and wrote with quills?"

"I didn't know."

Innocent approached them. "Good. You're here. I'll show you to your office."

Innocent pointed out a few office landmarks--filing room, tea room--before pointing them to their new office, which was almost entirely the same as their old office, down to the fluorescent lighting and paint colours.

"There are a few administrative boxes we have yet to tick," Innocent said, closing the door behind her. "I recognise that you have more policing experience, Inspector Lewis, but as Sergeant Hathaway has more experience with magic, you're going to have to take direction from him in certain situations."

Lewis looked a bit taken aback, but then he nodded. "Of course, ma'am."

"But we can't have you working in the MIT and knowing nothing about magic," Innocent said. "So I've signed you up for a local training course in the basics. Your placement on this team requires that you pass this course. Am I understood?"

"What sort of course is it, ma'am?" Lewis asked.

"Practical," Innocent said. "Basic charms, basic defences against them."

Lewis nodded, looking a bit relieved. Hathaway thought that Lewis was probably better at coursework than he thought he was, but the practical nature of the training course would appeal to him regardless.

"After you pass this training course, whether or not you continue the study of magic rests entirely with you," Innocent said. "You may choose to take other courses, or you could simply have Hathaway give you a tutorial. Don't be fooled. He knows more than he's saying."

Hathaway's jaw tensed. He hated when people emphasized his magical training. He'd tried so hard to be normal…and he might have managed it if Lewis hadn't been enspelled.

"The last thing you need to know," Innocent said, "is that, as you're new to the area of magical crime, you'll be starting with easy cases."

Lewis looked distinctly displeased. "Ma'am, just because a case is magic doesn't mean I can't solve it!"

"All right. Tell me how you would know whether a place is haunted or enspelled by a magical con artist. Or tell me what a marionette charm is and what you would do to keep from being caught in one. Better still, give me one of the three clear signs of magical foul play in a murder inquiry," Innocent said.

Lewis was silent. Hathaway winced inwardly in sympathy; it couldn't be easy to have the limits of one's knowledge pointed out, even when there was no earthly reason for Lewis not to have limits on his knowledge of magic. He'd only learnt about its existence yesterday.

"This is non-negotiable," Innocent said. "You'll work your way into the more difficult cases. I won't have you falling victim to charm work again."

Hathaway nearly flinched at the reminder, and Lewis's jaw set, but he said nothing.

"Good," Innocent said. "I want you to start working your way through some of our solved cases, gentlemen, and I will personally choose your first assignment." She gestured to the piles of folders that had been left on Lewis's and Hathaway's desks, then turned and left.

Lewis turned to Hathaway. "Suppose she can turn me into a toad?"

"I wouldn't risk it," Hathaway said with a slight smile.

Lewis nodded, picking up his first file with a sigh. Hathaway's mobile buzzed, and he fished it out of his pocket to have a look.

It was a text from Innocent. _Watch Lewis. Something still amiss._

Hathaway frowned, sending a message in return. _What exactly?_

_Piece of him still missing. Can't see what. Be careful._

Hathaway stared at his mobile screen. Surely it wasn't possible that part of Lewis's memory was still gone. He seemed in good enough nick today. Still, Innocent had said to be careful, and she was never wrong about things like this.

He would be careful.


	3. Missing

"James."

Hathaway had his back to the speaker, but he groaned inwardly as he recognised the voice. It would be bloody Norrington, wouldn't it? "Steven."

Norrington grinned. "Knew you'd come our way in the end. You're too good not to."

Hathaway wasn't about to discuss his lack of interest in charm work or the origins of that lack of interest. Neither did he want to discuss his dismay at finding himself in a situation where magic was an inescapable part of his life. Especially with Norrington, the smuggest git who ever smugged. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Cracked the case on your governor," Norrington said. "We're holding a second-year magic student called Ricky Clarke on charges of memory tampering. Bloody amateur."

"Amateur?" Hathaway felt unease in the pit of his stomach.

"Did the best charm work he could, but that's not saying much," Norrington said. "He only did it to cover the failed invisibility spell that got him and his friend seen by that Coogan bloke."

Hathaway's mind was racing. If Clarke hadn't known what he was doing when he cast the charm, he could've done more than he'd been trying to do. Lewis wasn't unhealed because Hathaway had done something wrong; Lewis was unhealed because Hathaway would've had no way of knowing how to fix Clarke's mistake.

He'd been paying close attention to Lewis, but so far, Lewis seemed all right. He hadn't lost anything basic, like his name or what job he did, and nothing had come up so far that Lewis should've known and didn't. Hathaway would have to keep looking. If he touched Lewis for a long enough period of time, he would be able to see what was wrong…but Hathaway didn't like doing that to people. Poking in other people's thoughts always made him feel a bit slimy…not to mention a bit ill.

"Thanks, Norrington," Hathaway said. "Let me know if anything else develops."

Norrington nods. "Will do."

Norrington always got up Hathaway's nose a bit. Mostly it was because of the unexamined assumption that police work involving magic would have to be better than ordinary police work. Hathaway doubted that Norrington could manage to solve cases like the sort he and Lewis dealt with on a regular basis without the use of his magic. Magic could become something you couldn't stop leaning on, something you couldn't do without. Hathaway never wanted it to be that way for him.

"Have we been assigned a case yet?" Hathaway asked as he entered the office he shared with Lewis.

Lewis gave Hathaway an annoyed look that answered the question without words.

"Ah," Hathaway said, sitting at his own desk. The separation between the regular CID and the MIT was remarkable; Hathaway hadn't even heard of most of the cases sitting on his desk, though he'd been working in the same building and, technically, any of the MIT officers could've told him about them.

"Not that these aren't interesting," Lewis said reluctantly, and Hathaway could tell Lewis was at least somewhat serious. But his tone also carried a not-very-subtle layer of frustration. He wanted to do his job. Hathaway didn't blame Lewis, even as he suspected Innocent was right; Lewis wasn't ready yet. And not just because he was missing something.

Lewis looked back at his folder, then hesitated. "Do you know this stuff already? About charms?"

Time for an evasion. "Some of it."

"What I mean is…" Lewis sighed. "Am I holding you back?"

Hathaway frowned at Lewis. "What? No!"

"If I'm dead weight, man, you need to tell me," Lewis said.

"You're not dead weight," Hathaway said firmly. "You're new to this sort of case. There's no shame in not being an expert."

"I…" Lewis pulled a face. "I don't want you to have to make up for me being useless."

Hathaway pulled his chair out from behind his desk, dragging it over to Lewis's desk. "All right. Rather than you reading the cases on your own, we'll read them and I'll go through the magic involved in the case and answer any questions you have."

Lewis looked embarrassed. Hathaway could imagine that Lewis didn't like being the student at this stage in his career.

"The sooner you know what I know, the sooner we can get back to work," Hathaway said briskly, trying to treat this as a straightforward process…and thus not embarrassing.

Lewis was silent for a moment. Then he nodded, pushing forward the folder he'd been looking at. "This identity theft case. How could anyone have thought the thief looked like the victim?"

Hathaway craned his neck to look at the images of the two. "There are a few charms that can make you look like someone else. Different degrees of difficulty, though. The easy charms make you look enough like a photo on an ID for someone in a shop not to question it. The complex charms can make you look and sound exactly like someone else, to the point that someone who knows the other person well couldn't tell it was really you."

Lewis examined the images again. "This is the first kind, yeah? The simpler charm?"

Hathaway smiled. "It is. Do you know what almost always catches people who use this type of charm?"

"What?"

"CCTV. The charm works on people but not on cameras."

Lewis looked at Hathaway, frowning slightly. "Does the more complicated spell work on cameras?"

"Not ordinarily," Hathaway said. "You have to add an even more complicated bit to make it work on cameras…only the very best charm casters can do that."

Much to Hathaway's relief, Lewis seemed invigorated by the idea of a new type of crime to investigate. "What if the person I want to look like doesn't look anything like me? Does that make the spell more difficult?"

Hathaway nodded. "For the simpler charms, it does, because it's an approximation. For the more difficult charms, no, because the charm is meant to make you look exactly like the person, and that exactness will come through no matter what the other person looks like."

"Have you ever used either one?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway fought the urge to lie. "Once. Only once. It takes so much effort that it's incredibly tiring."

"You mean the more complicated one," Lewis said. "You're good enough to do that?"

Reluctantly, Hathaway nodded.

"Can I ask why you needed to use that spell?" Lewis asked.

"You can ask," Hathaway said in a tone that suggested he'd rather eat toads than discuss it.

"Ah," Lewis said with a nod. "So…the complex one could make me look like you?"

"Or Innocent. Or your daughter," Hathaway said.

Lewis snorted. "Very funny."

"What is?"

"You know I don't have any kids," Lewis said.

Hathaway felt his stomach plummet. "You don't?"

Lewis shook his head. "Never been married, have I?"

 _No. Oh, no. Why couldn't it have been something else, anything else?_ James understood, now, why he hadn't been able to figure out what part of Lewis was gone. It simply hadn't come up at work. How often, after all, did Lewis discuss his family?

And now Lewis didn't know he'd ever had a family.

Hathaway closed his eyes, searching his own mind for any of Lewis's stray memories. Perhaps, during the casting of the healing charm, Hathaway had taken some of Lewis's memories into his own mind. But no…they weren't there. Shit.

"Are you all right?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway forced his voice to sound calm. "You're sure you've never been married or had a family?"

Lewis shook his head. "Lifelong bachelor. Like Morse. That's why we worked so well together."

Hathaway's stomach lurched. Innocent had been right. It was…it was an enormous part of Lewis that had gone…any memory of his family and his love for them. Not only were the memories not in Lewis's head, they weren't in Hathaway's either, and that was the only other place they could have been.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. How was he going to fix this? Could he even fix it? No, he shouldn't think like that. He could fix it. He had to. Because Lewis without his family wasn't Lewis at all.

Whatever he had to do to manage it, Hathaway would find a way to give Lewis his memories back. There was no other choice.


	4. Empty

At Hathaway's that night, Lewis was staring intently into his beer. Hathaway had invited Lewis back to his flat rather than to a pub that night because, this way, they could talk about magic without caring who overheard or suddenly being unable to speak mid-sentence because someone who didn't know about magic came within earshot.

"Are you scrying?" Hathaway joked.

Lewis looked up, startled. "What's that?"

"It's when you use a reflective surface to see something else," Hathaway said. "The future, the past, someone far away."

Lewis shook his head. "Not scrying. Just thinking."

"About?"

Lewis gave Hathaway a worried look. "Have I always been like this?"

Hathaway tipped his head slightly to one side, not sure what Lewis was asking. "Like what?"

Lewis shook his head. "Something's wrong, James. I can't put it into words, but…" He grimaced. "This isn't making any sense."

"Go on," Hathaway said.

"It feels like…" Lewis was quiet a moment, searching for the right words. "It feels like an emptiness. Like something missing, and nothing matters without it."

Lewis was a bloody genius. Even with most of his memories restored, and without knowing what he'd lost, he knew some piece of himself was gone. Hathaway admired Lewis's detective skills generally, but this was on another plane.

"Maybe everyone feels this way," Lewis said, rotating his pint glass in his hands absentmindedly, "but I don't think I used to." He gave Hathaway a sheepish smile. "Suppose that sounds mental."

"No," Hathaway said slowly. "It really doesn't."

Lewis scrutinised Hathaway's expression for a moment. "What aren't you telling me?"

"The person who cast the forgetting charm on you didn't know what he was doing," Hathaway said.

Lewis drew a sharp breath. "Will It go again? Is…will it be permanent?" He looked deeply shaken, almost terrified.

"No," Hathaway said. "But…there's part of your memory that hasn't been restored."

"Do you know what it is?"

Hathaway nodded. "You have two children. A son and a daughter…Mark and Lyn."

"Children," Lewis whispered. "How old?"

"Adult," Hathaway said. "Other than that, I don't know exactly. I've never met them."

Lewis looked down, realising something. "Lyn." He fumbled for his phone. "She rang me the other night. I didn't recognise the name so I didn't answer. Figured when I listened to the message and she called me 'Dad' that she'd got the wrong number."

"Do you want to call her back?"

"And tell her what?" Lewis asked. "Sorry I didn't answer the phone; I've completely forgotten you?"

"Well," Hathaway said, "maybe not that."

"How could I forget them? What sort of man…?"

"A man who's had his memories taken," Hathaway said firmly. "It's not your fault."

But Lewis wouldn't meet Hathaway's eyes. He clearly didn't believe that.

Hathaway leant forward, arms resting on his thighs as he sat. "I'm sorry. I know it's..I know how difficult it can be to have a charm cast on you."

"You know?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway stared at his hands, clasped there before him. "I was studying magic in the postgraduate program here at Oxford. It's always…such a heady experience, coming to a community where people care about the same things you care about."

Lewis nodded. He didn't have to ask what had happened for Hathaway to know he was wondering about it.

"One of the first things they teach you is a protection charm, so other people can't enspell you. And I was careless. I suppose I thought I was advanced enough in my studies that I could deflect any charm cast on me." Hathaway paused. "One of my professors noticed I was unprotected and decided that was an excellent opportunity to lecture about the dangers of not protecting yourself against others' magic. So he cast a voicing charm on me."

"What's that?"

Hathaway had to take a moment to answer. Even now, he could still remember the fear and horror he'd felt at the sensation of the magic seeping into his body, the defensive charm he'd tried to cast too late.

"It lets the person who cast the charm use you to speak for him," Hathaway said. "Complete vocal control. He can make you talk or sing or laugh, and you have to do it." The words didn't get at the queasy terror of the experience…of feeling yourself say words that weren't yours, knowing you couldn't stop yourself until someone else chose to let you go.

Lewis was looking at Hathaway in concern.

Hathaway cleared his throat. "My punishment was minor. I had to stand at the front of the room and deliver the day's lecture. When it was over, he let me go." He shuddered. "But I never forgot what that felt like…knowing I was helpless."

"No, I don't expect you would," Lewis said.

"I've never been under a forgetting charm," Hathaway said. "Though arguably I wouldn't remember if I had."

Lewis smiled a very small smile.

"But I know what it's like to have magic used against you," Hathaway said. "To have something taken from you."

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Lewis said.

Hathaway exhaled slowly, trying to rid himself of the fear those memories always brought back. "It was a long time ago."

"Not long enough," Lewis said.

Hathaway inclined his head in agreement. "No."

"When this is sorted," Lewis began, and then he tensed, looking at Hathaway. "Can it be sorted?"

"I'll do the best I can," Hathaway said.

Lewis nodded. "I've seen how people in the MIT treat you. You must be pretty special when it comes to magic."

"I do all right with charm work," Hathaway said, falling back on one of his old evasions.

Not that it fooled Lewis, who gave him a look that said, 'That may work on other people, but I know you better than that.' He didn't pry, though, and Hathaway was grateful for that.

"But when this is sorted," Lewis said, "will you teach me the protection charm you use for yourself? It must be a good one."

"Of course," Hathaway said.

He didn't bother telling Lewis that he'd only begun using the protection charm a few days ago, that the agreement he'd made upon joining the police had required him not to cast charms and that he'd followed that rule faithfully until a few days ago…even in a few situations where it would've been better if he had cast charms to protect them.

The protection charm he used did have the benefit of protecting the user against both malign and benign magic; a love charm, for instance, was considered benign because the caster intended no harm to the person the charm was being cast upon. Hathaway knew he'd feel better knowing both of them were equally protected.

"The pictures," Lewis whispered. "In my flat. I thought they were people I'd worked with or used to be friends with, but…they're my family, aren't they?"

Hathaway nodded.

"One of the women…she's in so many." Lewis was quiet a moment. "Was that my wife?"

"You remember?"

Lewis shook his head. "But she's my age. She couldn't be my daughter. Did she die?"

"Yes," Hathaway said, startled.

Lewis nodded. "I wouldn't have kept the pictures if she'd walked out or divorced me." He sighed. "I must miss her."

"You do."

"Even so…" Lewis looked at Hathaway. "I hope you can give them back to me."

Hathaway hoped so too.

"Where are these memories exactly?" Lewis asked. "Are they still in me head, but blocked?"

Hathaway shook his head. "I would've felt any sort of a block when I touched you to end the charm. There was nothing."

"But they must've gone somewhere," Lewis said.

Hathaway smiled. "Law of conservation of memories?"

"Something like that," Lewis said. "You don't think whoever cast the charm in the first place…that Clarke bloke…has them, do you?"

Hathaway felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Of course--with an amateur casting charms, he might easily have taken the memories into himself without even knowing it. And as Ricky Clarke would've had no reason to try to remember anything from Lewis's life, the memories would've stayed dormant in Clarke's mind.

"We've got him in custody," Hathaway said, newly determined to fix this. "Tomorrow, I'll go see him, and I'll get your memories back."


	5. Return

Innocent looked up to see Hathaway hovering in the doorway. "There is such a thing as knocking."

Hathaway nodded. "I didn't want to interrupt your train of thought, ma'am."

Hathaway's level of deference was usually directly related to the size of the favour he intended to ask for. Innocent set down her pen and folded her hands. "I'm listening."

"Ricky Clarke, ma'am," Hathaway said.

Innocent nodded. "I've been informed about his crimes against Inspector Lewis. Is there more?"

"Yes, ma'am. He's not very good at charm work, and he's accidentally taken some of Inspector Lewis's memories into his own mind."

There was no question that Hathaway would want to retrieve the memories, or that he could do it. But memories could only move from one person to another, which meant Hathaway would have to take the memories into his own mind before he could transfer them to Lewis's. It was a delicate business, and not without its risks. Although Innocent would never have told anyone, she suspected Hathaway was the only person in her nick who could do it (though Norrington would've tried, probably to the detriment of everyone involved).

"You want a separant," she said.

Hathaway nodded. "If you're willing."

A separant was someone who helped the person transferring memories keep those memories from merging with his own mind. By taking the memories, Hathaway would have to experience at least some pieces of them. But if he couldn't separate those memories from his own at least a little, he wouldn't be able to extract them to give them to Lewis.

"I am," Innocent said. She didn't need to ask what needed to be done; one of the benefits of her magic manifesting visually was that she could already see it. "I'll meet you there in ten minutes."

Hathaway looked relieved. "Thank you, ma'am."

Innocent only hoped Hathaway was as good at this as she thought he was.

***

Hathaway had arranged to meet Innocent and Ricky Clarke in Clarke's holding cell. As was usual for criminals who'd used magic, Clarke had been placed under a charm that didn't allow him to use magic himself--an inelegant solution, but an effective one.

Innocent looked at Hathaway. "Shall we begin?"

"Begin what?" Clarke asked warily.

"You took something that didn't belong to you," Hathaway said, whispering the transfer charm before touching Clarke's hand.

The memories slammed into Hathaway's mind. Clarke shouted and pulled away, but that was all right. Lewis's memories had already transferred; that was the easy bit. Now Hathaway had to sift through them…live bits of them…so he could arrange them in preparation for transfer to Lewis.

He could feel Innocent's hand on his arm, guiding him away, taking him somewhere safer. But he was already being pulled into one of the memories…

***

_As usual, Robbie was next to a beautiful girl at the concert. Also as usual, he knew he'd have no idea what to say to her and spend the whole night trying to think of something clever with no success._

_Then she turned to him. "They're brilliant, aren't they?"_

_For a moment, Robbie simply goggled at her. Then he nodded. "Yeah."_

_"Are you from Newcastle?" she asked._

_Robbie nodded. "You?"_

_She shook her head. "I'm visiting my aunt and uncle."_

_For the first time in his life, Robbie found enough courage to continue the conversation. "I'm Robbie. Lewis."_

_She smiled at him. "Val Collins."_

_He smiled back at her. "Nice to meet you, Val."_

_They had their first kiss with Esme Ford snarling in the background. "Baby…why'd you have to go and leave me that way…"_

_***_

_She was lying in his arms in the dark, her head against his shoulder. "I worry about you."_

_"Aye, I know," Robbie said, holding her tight. "What do you think about moving south? To live closer to your family?"_

_He could hear the delight in her voice. "Are you sure? You know I'd never ask you to…"_

_"I've been thinking about it a while now," Robbie said. "There's a position open in Oxford CID, and I thought…"_

_But what he thought would have to remain a mystery, because Val's lips found his even in the dark. Val had the trick of always making him feel like the most brilliant person in the world…of making him feel cherished and loved. Which was important, because police didn't necessarily get much of that._

_"I love you," he whispered against her lips._

_"I love you too." And she kissed him again._

_***_

_They were on the sofa. Val was leaning against him, and he had his arm round her. Then Val took his hand and rested it on her stomach._

_"Feel," she said._

_After a moment, Robbie's eyes widened in delight as he felt something stirring. Someone. "Is that her? Is she kicking?"_

_"We don't know that it's a her," Val said, laughing. "Unless you know something I don't."_

_"I just have a feeling," Robbie said, kissing Val's cheek. "And she's going to be just like you."_

_***_

_Robbie's breath caught as he held their Lyn for the first time. She was so tiny. Everything about her was so tiny. She was out in the world…a living, breathing person. His daughter._

_"Hello, pet," he whispered, his voice unsteady. "I'm your dad."_

_***_

_"He's very ugly," Lyn declared as they looked through the window at Mark._

_"None of that!" Robbie said. "He looks just like you did when you were born."_

_"Do I have to look out for him?" Lyn asked._

_Robbie took his little girl's hand. "We'll all of us look out for him."_

_***_

_He'd driven with the siren on, at breakneck and entirely reckless speeds. But he was here now, clutching Val's hand in his, waiting for her to wake up, praying that she would._

_"Please, love," he whispered. "Please find your way back to me."_

_But she didn't._

***

The first thing he noticed was that he was slumped against the wall, tears streaming down his face.

"James," Innocent said.

Part of him recognised that as his name and looked up.

"I can see him in there," Innocent said. "Robbie. Hovering behind you."

"But separate?" James asked.

Innocent nodded. "Separate."

The Robbie bit of him tried to dry his eyes. "Sorry, ma'am…I'm…"

"It's all right," she said, her voice gentler than either of them had ever guessed it could be. She inclined her head. "Come on. He needs you."

As Hathaway walked into their shared office, Lewis looked up.

"Bloody hell, it's me!" blurted the bit of Robbie in James's mind.

Lewis froze, eyes wide. "James? Is it…?"

Hathaway nodded. "I've got the memories, sir. They're safe." He held out his hand to Lewis. "Are you ready?"

Lewis didn't hesitate. He crossed to Hathaway immediately and took his hand. Hathaway whispered the charm, and then the Robbie bit of his brain was gone, just like that.

"Oh," Lewis whispered as the memories sank in, eyes lighting at retrieving what had been lost. He gave Hathaway a grateful look. "Thank you."

"You remember?"

Lewis nodded. "I remember everything."

"Thank you too," Hathaway said.

"For what?"

_For letting me be part of a family. For showing me what love looks like, and that you don't have to give yourself up or accept ill treatment to get it. For giving me the chance to be a husband and a dad…two things I'll never be._

"For trusting me," Hathaway said.

Lewis looked at Hathaway a moment, his expression going wistful. "She was beautiful, wasn't she?"

Hathaway suspected there was only one proper answer to that. "Aye, she was."

For a moment, Lewis looked at Hathaway, startled. Then, when Hathaway smiled, for the first time in a long while, so did Lewis.


	6. Books

Saturday afternoon, Hathaway's mobile rang. It was Lewis.

"Sir?" Hathaway answered.

"I've just finished me first magic meeting," Lewis said.

"Oh!" Hathaway padded into his kitchen to get a glass of water. "How did it go?"

"All right. What the hell was in that protection charm you taught me?"

Hathaway froze. "Did something go wrong?"

"No," Lewis said, sounding amused. "But the teacher said she'd never seen a novice so well-protected."

Hathaway exhaled in relief. "What did you say?"

"Said I was a police officer and it was necessary," Lewis said.

"Did the rest of it go well?" Hathaway asked, cradling his phone between chin and shoulder as he procured his water.

"It did, yeah. Erm…don't suppose you know anything about charm books."

"You mean instruction books, or books about the history of charms and magic?" Hathaway took a sip of water.

"Both. But I do want a book with charms I can learn. Thought you might know where there was a book shop?"

Hathaway nodded, tamping down the instinctive panic that always rose in him at the thought of visiting his old haunts. _No one you know will be there. Stop it._ "I know a few."

"Mind taking me?"

Hathaway smiled. "You're enjoying this, aren't you, sir?"

"If I'm trying to catch magical criminals, I need to know as much as I can." A long pause. "Yeah. A bit."

"I'll meet you at your flat. Unless you think we need to take two cars."

"No, no. Nothing like that."

"All right. I'll see you soon."

"Thanks, man."

Hathaway hung up the phone and fought the urge to cast a disguise charm on himself. The people he'd been to school with hadn't left the practise of magic the way he had. They might still frequent those shops. Hell, by now some of them might own those shops. And if they did, they might not want him there. What if someone attacked him? What if they asked him to leave? What would Lewis think if he saw that?

_Nothing. He won't think anything because there's nothing to think. Go on._

He scooped up his keys and left the flat.

***

"I really appreciate your help," Lewis said as he got into Hathaway's car. "I wouldn't know where to start with these things."

Hathaway chose his words carefully. "I'm glad if I can be a help to you."

"You're always that," Lewis said, "but this is a special help."

Hathaway inclined his head in acknowledgment, trying not to grip the wheel so tightly that his knuckles would go white. Lewis would see, and Hathaway couldn't have that.

He chose the used book shop furthest from the University. When Hathaway had been a student, the shop had been thought of with some disdain by his fellow students, but Hathaway had never been willing to rely on anyone else's opinion without forming one of his own first. He'd visited the shop and had found some genuine gems amid the mass-market paperbacks and magician biographies.

"Never noticed this place before," Lewis said. Then he gave Hathaway a sheepish glance. "But I wouldn't have, would I?"

Hathaway smiled and shook his head.

They wandered into the shop together. The layout of the shop was much the same as it had been in Hathaway's day (which, admittedly, wasn't that long ago), with books arranged roughly by subject area. Hathaway directed Lewis to the magic history and charms area, which were on parallel shelves.

"This," Hathaway said, pulling a book from the shelves, "is a good survey of magical history."

"Readable?" Lewis asked.

"Of course readable. And very interesting."

"You think every book is interesting."

"Every book is," Hathaway said. "But this is better than most. Very little in the way of magic snobbery. And it reads like a novel."

Lewis took the book. "Thanks."

Hathaway turned and began scanning the titles of the charm books. "Now, for introductory charms…"

Someone came barrelling round the corner, then stopped dead. "Shit!" And the air crackled as the person whispered a protection charm.

Hathaway looked over and his heart sank. "Douglas."

Douglas gave him an uneasy smile. "James. Good to see you." But it clearly wasn't, and anyone could've seen that.

"Finish your degree, did you?" Hathaway asked.

Douglas nodded, gaze darting to the left, calculating how to make his escape. Hathaway fought to keep his breathing deep and even, his stomach steady. "And you?"

They both knew the answer to that question. Douglas had only asked it because he was too distracted to remember he didn't have to.

"No," Hathaway said.

Douglas nodded. "Well…I…I have to go. I'll see you later." He hurried away.

"Odd," Lewis said, glancing at Hathaway.

Hathaway resisted the urge to tell Lewis the truth--that Douglas wasn't the odd one.

After they'd purchased Lewis's books and were back in the car, Lewis spoke. "Do you want to tell me what that was about?"

"No," Hathaway said.

Lewis paused. "If this is something that's going to affect your work…"

"It isn't," Hathaway said, striving to sound more confident than he felt. "We knew each other at university. That's all."

Lewis sighed. He clearly didn't like it, but he just as clearly wasn't going to say anything about it.

Hathaway turned his wrist to check his watch, and his stomach lurched at the sight of the cracked watch face…the face that hadn't been cracked when they'd entered the shop. _No. Not again._

He pretended nothing had happened, started the car, and drove Lewis home. He wasn't going to think about this now.


	7. Release

Innocent leaned into their office. "I've got a job for you."

Lewis was on his feet almost instantly. Two bloody weeks of reading old cases, and he was ready to investigate someone's pocket money being pinched if it meant he actually got to do something.

Innocent held up a hand. "It's not a case."

Lewis could feel Hathaway flanking him, apparently equally ready to have some work to do. Of course, he might've done before now if Lewis hadn't been slowing him down.

"What is it, ma'am?" Hathaway asked.

"We've got a magical theft suspect in the interview room. He's potentially stolen thousands of pounds from a series of banks. You'll need to be careful," Innocent said.

"We have done interviews before, ma'am," Lewis said, sounding a bit tetchy to his own ears.

She gave him an aggrieved look. "He's cast malicious charms on people before to stop them catching him. Be careful."

"Ma'am," Hathaway said as she walked away. Then he lowered his voice. "If you're uncomfortable with this, sir…"

Of course Lewis was uncomfortable being in the room with a bloke who could throw some sort of curse at him. He'd been charmed once already and it had been a bloody nuisance and (if he were being fully honest) a bit frightening. But he was desperate to get back to work. "Anything he can throw at me that can get through the protection spells we've got?"

Hathaway hesitated. Not the ringing endorsement Lewis had been hoping for.

"Thought that was the point of a protection spell," Lewis said, feeling a bit uneasy.

"There are no charms he can cast to injure you," Hathaway said, "but if he's adept enough at magic, he can cast a charm ending your protection spell. Most people don't have enough magic to do that, but he might."

"And once the protection spell's broken, he can do what he likes," Lewis said.

"He won't be able to harm you," Hathaway said.

Lewis glanced at him. "How do you know that?"

"Because I won't let him," Hathaway said.

Sometimes Lewis wondered exactly how much magic Hathaway had.

***

The two of them entered the interview room together, and the suspect--one Charlie Stilbury by name--looked up at them.

"Told you I didn't do anything," Stilbury said.

"CCTV footage shows you leaving the bank just after the robbery," Lewis said. "You want to explain what you were doing there?"

"Cashing a cheque," Stilbury said. "I think you'll find that's an acceptable pastime at many banks."

There was something wrong in Stilbury's voice--a note of falseness. Lewis didn't know why he could hear it now, but the sound of it was grating…jarring. It gave away the lie he was telling.

"You're a good liar, Mr Stilbury," Lewis said, "but you are a liar."

Stilbury was silent for a moment. Then, with a sudden crackle of energy, he murmured some words, and something blue went whizzing through the air toward Lewis. There was a flash of metal, and Lewis had just enough time to realise it was a knife…

…and Hathaway spoke one word and plucked the knife from the air, diverting its course and burying it hilt-deep in the wall, all without touching it.

"Enough," Hathaway snapped. Then, suddenly, Stilbury was sent flying across the room so violently that, when he hit the wall, the plaster cracked behind him.

"James," Lewis said, eyes wide, trying to work out what was happening here.

But Hathaway didn't hear Lewis as he advanced on the gasping Stilbury, now pinned to the wall by invisible hands.

"If I were you," Hathaway said, voice containing an icy fury, "I would tell the truth rather than find out what else I can do to you."

Lewis heard a crackling sound, and turned to see a fine spiderweb pattern of fractures spreading across the two-way mirror in the interview room.

"All right," Stilbury said hurriedly. "You're right. I did it. I stole thirteen thousand pounds. I'll tell you what banks and when. Please don't kill me."

"I'm not going to kill you," Hathaway said, disgusted.

The cracks in the two-way mirror had spread across its entire surface by now, making it almost entirely useless as a mirror.

"James?" Lewis was trying to sound calm, and he'd mostly managed it.

Hathaway turned to Lewis, frowning slightly and looking as though he'd just emerged from a dream of some sort. "Are you all right?"

Lewis nodded. "You?"

Hathaway saw the two-way mirror and its damage, and behind him, whatever had been holding Stilbury against the wall released him, sending him slumping to the ground.

"No," Hathaway whispered, going ashen. "Oh, no." He left the room without another word.

Lewis followed him into their office, closing the door. "Are you going to tell me what that was?"

"It's why I gave it up," Hathaway said.

Lewis shook his head. "What?"

"I gave it up. That's why I wasn't working for the MIT in the first place. I specifically signed an agreement saying I would never use magic again, so something like this wouldn't happen."

"That was all your doing?" Lewis asked. "Stilbury against the wall, and the mirror cracking?"

Hathaway nodded miserably, running a hand over the top of his head.

"But you didn't use any charms," Lewis said. "The books I've got say that can't happen. Charms are how magic works."

"Mostly they are," Hathaway said, voice low. "Unless you've got someone with more magic than sense, and he can't keep control of himself."

"That happens when you get angry?"

"It happens when I'm anything other than calm," Hathaway said. "Glass and things like it break first. Then other things." He looked at Lewis. "I put you at risk. I put everyone at risk."

"No," Lewis said, trying to find his way through ground he'd only just become aware existed. "You didn't put me at risk. You were protecting me…you saved me, James. The protection spell wouldn't have stopped a knife, would it?"

Hathaway shook his head.

"I don't say you ought to send someone through the wall every day," Lewis said.

Hathaway was surprised enough to smile at that.

"But two-way mirrors can be mended," Lewis said.

Hathaway looked at Lewis, a piercing, incisive look. "You're not afraid of me?"

Lewis shook his head. "No." Slowly, he extended his hand to Hathaway. "Touch me and see."

Hathaway hesitated, but then he reached out and brushed his fingers across Lewis's hand. Lewis didn't know what Hathaway would see of him, but he had to trust that whatever it was would be all right.

After a moment, Hathaway exhaled a shuddery breath, moving his hand away. "Thank you."

"You're all right," Lewis said.

Hathaway looked at Lewis. "I meant to ask. How did you know he was lying?"

"Heard it in his voice," Lewis said. Then he realised what Hathaway's question actually meant. "Couldn't you hear it?"

Hathaway shook his head.

"Well…what does that mean?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway smiled. "It means we know how your magic manifests. Innocent sees things about people; you can hear things."

Lewis considered the idea. "Could be useful."

Hathaway snorted at the level of understatement in that sentence. "Could be."

But Lewis wondered if Hathaway was changing the subject on purpose. "You going to be all right?"

Hathaway nodded. "Yeah."

Lewis gave Hathaway his best 'I'm your governor' glare. "And you'd tell me if you weren't?"

"I wouldn't have to, sir," Hathaway said. "I think now you'd hear it."

Oh. Right. Lewis was going to have to get used to that.

Lewis inclined his head toward the door. "You coming with me to brief Innocent?"

Hathaway shook his head.

"All right," Lewis said. "Back in a tick."

As Lewis left the office, he couldn't help wondering if the window in their office had been cracked earlier this morning.


	8. Balance

Lewis sighed, set aside the case file he'd been looking at, and barely managed to stifle a yawn.

Hathaway glanced over at him. "It's a lot, isn't it?"

"Thought I knew all the ways people could be awful to one another," Lewis said grimly. "Magic opens up all sorts of new ways."

"I know," Hathaway said.

Lewis looked at Hathaway. Outwardly, the lad seemed to be perfectly calm, with no remaining turmoil from their morning encounter with Charlie Stilbury, but Lewis knew appearances weren't always truthful, especially with Hathaway. Between Hathaway's loss of control and Lewis's still-growing knowledge about the magical world, Lewis wondered how long it would be before Innocent tired of them contributing absolutely nothing in the way of detective work. (Innocent herself had seemed less bothered; when Lewis had reported Hathaway's loss of control, she'd simply nodded in resignation and said, "Yes, I know. I saw it this morning. Make sure he's all right." Lewis found it a bit daunting to have a boss who could sometimes see the future.)

"You all right?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway's shoulders tensed at the question, and the crack in their office window spread another few centimetres.

"Yes," Hathaway said, and Lewis didn't even need his magic to know it was a lie.

When Hathaway looked at Lewis, Lewis simply raised his eyebrows. After a moment, Hathaway sighed. It wasn't an answer, but it wasn't a lie either.

"Right," Lewis said. "You and I are going for a pint."

"No!" Hathaway's answer was sharp and immediate. Then he took a deep breath and shook his head. "There's too much glass."

Oh. Of course there was--mirrors, windows, glasses--maybe even the specs of other people in the pub.

"Right," Lewis said. "Then you can come back to mine instead."

Hathaway snorted. "Sir, if I didn't want to damage a stranger's windows, I certainly don't want to damage yours."

"And what makes you think you will?" Lewis asked.

"Because once it starts…" Hathaway shook his head, clearly worried.

"That's why I want to try it at home," Lewis said. "I've got an idea about that."

"Nothing's ever worked except swearing off magic entirely," Hathaway said, "and it's too late to do that now."

"I'll take me chances," Lewis said, inclining his head. "Come on."

Hathaway followed, but he didn't look terribly happy about it.

***

Hathaway was trying not to feel overly anxious, but the hell of anxiety was that worrying about anxiety did in fact produce more anxiety.

"James, it's me own flat. Destroy all the windows if you want. I can afford new ones," Lewis said.

Hathaway tried to smile but didn't quite get there. He was concentrating too hard on not breaking the bottle of beer he held and embedding its shards in his hands.

"Today, with Stilbury…this isn't the first time something like this has happened," Lewis said.

Hathaway shook his head. He didn't like to tell this story…never had told it before…but at the moment he seemed to have no other option. "In one of my lectures. We were enjoying a rather heated debate. One of the other students got a bit overheated…made a few threats against my person that didn't follow proper debate procedure. Started toward me, probably to attack."

"You felt unsafe," Lewis said.

Hathaway nodded. "The thing of it is, it doesn't feel like losing control when it happens. Everything seems to slow down, and it's a bit like entering a trance."

"And when you come out of it…" Lewis said.

"The windows were destroyed and almost everyone was hiding under the table," Hathaway said. "The person who'd tried to attack me…he was lying on the floor in front of me, terrified."

He'd been confused at first…hadn't realised he'd had anything to do with the windows or with Steven or the shattered clock until his shaken professor had dismissed everyone else and had a chat with him.

"That Douglas bloke we saw a few weeks ago?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway shook his head. "No. He wasn't in the room when I did it. But it seemed as though people heard about it within minutes of it happening. I could tell by the way people kept their distance from me."

Lewis nodded, expression sympathetic. "Sorry."

"So am I," Hathaway said. There was the tinkling sound of a glass shattering in the cupboard behind him, and Hathaway flinched. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Lewis said. "Not for that. I break one a month without my magic." He paused. "I've got something I'd like to try. All right if I touch you?"

Hathaway nodded warily.

Lewis set a hand on Hathaway's shoulder, and suddenly, there was warmth and calm and care and safety flowing from Lewis to him. Hathaway was afraid of what he might do, but Lewis wasn't; Lewis felt safe, and thought Hathaway was safe too. Lewis was sure of Hathaway, and with that knowledge, Hathaway felt as though he could be sure of himself. He found himself relaxing.

"What did you do?" he asked Lewis.

"Nothing so elaborate as a charm," Lewis said. "Your magic works through touch. So when you get a bit tense or out of sorts, I thought I could help." He paused. "Did I?"

Hathaway felt a very real relief, and for the first time since this morning, he was able to let go his vicelike grip of his magic. And nothing in the flat broke.

"You did," Hathaway said. "Thank you, sir."

Lewis patted his shoulder. "That's what detectives are for."

Maybe it was. Hathaway had been in a bloody college full of charmcasters and none of them had ever thought to do this. None of them had even considered that his magic might be set in balance again by going through Hathaway's natural magical channels. It had taken a detective to do that; it had taken Inspector Lewis.

"Now," Lewis said, removing his hand from Hathaway's shoulder, "let's see if we can't enjoy the rest of our evening."

Though it would've been unthinkable to him even a few minutes ago, now Hathaway thought…well, maybe they could.


	9. Hearing

Hathaway poked his head into their office. "We've got a job."

Lewis looked up. "Suspect interview?"

"Not this time," Hathaway said. "We need to go through a particular area and look for signs of charms having been cast there recently."

"I know that one!" Lewis said, looking triumphant. "The charm that lets you see traces of magic. Learnt it from one of those books you showed me."

Hathaway smiled. "Come on, then. You can have a go."

Lewis hesitated, then gestured for Hathaway to come into the office. Hathaway frowned, but he suspected Lewis might have something private he wanted to ask. So Hathaway stepped inside and closed the door.

"Do you ever have…" Lewis scratched his head. "Dunno how to say this exactly. You can sense things from touch, yeah?"

Hathaway nodded, wondering where this was going.

"So…do you ever feel…like you're touching something when you're not?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway shook his head, mystified. "I don't follow."

Lewis sighed. "I've been hearing things."

Hathaway tilted his head curiously. "What sorts of things?"

"Crying," Lewis said. "Since I got up today, I've heard someone crying."

"Can you tell who it is?" Hathaway asked.

Lewis shook his head. "No. It's magic, isn't it?"

Hathaway nodded. "Of course." He thought for a moment. "There are two options I can think of. One is that you're being haunted, and the other is that you're hearing something from the past or future."

Lewis didn't seem to like either of those options much. Hathaway didn't blame him.

"There must be some way to tell which it is," Lewis said.

"You heard the crying in your flat this morning. Can you hear it now?"

"Not right now," Lewis said. "But I have heard it since I got here."

"Right," Hathaway said. "Ghosts can either be attached to places or to people. You hearing it both places means that if you're being haunted, the ghost is attached to you."

"Can you tell?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway nodded, reaching out. "Give me your hand."

Lewis did, and there was the familiar sense of Lewis in Hathaway's mind. Lewis was probably the only one Hathaway had touched often enough to grow accustomed to his presence. At the moment, Hathaway could feel the gentle pulse of Lewis's worry, as well as hope that James could get this sorted. Lewis had a lot of faith in him. Hathaway probed gently for any other presence, but it didn't take long to see there wasn't one. He released Lewis's hand.

"Anything?" Lewis asked.

"You're not haunted," Hathaway said.

Lewis pulled a face. "Not sure whether I'm relieved or worried. If it's some other time I'm hearing, what's to say it won't go on forever?"

"Sometimes things like this happen," Hathaway said. "Usually it happens for a reason, and only for a brief time. Once, when I was younger, for a day and a half, every time I picked up a book, I saw the space beneath someone's bed. A few months later, my mum lost a library book. Guess where it was."

Lewis nodded. "The crying, though. It's not some sort of bad omen?"

"Not necessarily," Hathaway said. "You won't know until you reach the moment when it's important."

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of," Lewis said. He shook his head. "Anyway, no one's crying now. Let's go look for magic."

The area they were searching was relatively small--one building, the pavement in front of it, and a side alley. They went inside first.

"Why don't you do the honour?" Hathaway said.

Lewis gave Hathaway a wary look. "You sure?"

Hathaway could see Lewis was still worried, and he nudged Lewis with his arm, smiling at him. "Thought you could do with some practise."

"I'm not…" Lewis looked as though he were considering how to say something. "When I use magic on things…they tend to go a bit…blue."

Hathaway frowned. "Blue?"

"Tried to zap myself a bottle of beer from the fridge last night," Lewis said. "Just, you know. To see if I could do it. When it got there, the bottle was blue and so was the beer."

"Maybe that's what's been crying," Hathaway said. "The beer. You've upset it."

Lewis gave Hathaway a faintly disgusted look.

"No, it's not unusual," Hathaway said. "The colour is your magical signature. Everyone's got one, though not everyone's is a colour. Some people have a sound or a feeling. No one else in the world has exactly that shade of blue associated with his or her charms. It'll tone down a bit as you get more experience."

"Hope I don't turn meself blue first," Lewis grumbled. He looked at the room where they stood, squared his shoulders, and muttered the words to the magic-detecting charm.

For a moment, the room was filled with blue light. Then the light faded, leaving only a blue glittery residue in places where magic had been used--in this case, the mirror.

Lewis looked perplexed. "He's got a magic mirror?"

"People charm their mirrors to give themselves confidence, so they only see good things about themselves," Hathaway said.

"Do you do that?" Lewis asked.

"No. If you already know yourself, a mirror won't do much to change it." 

Lewis nodded. "Next room?"

They went through the house methodically, room by room. The kitchen had some signs of unexplained magic, more than a few stray cooking charms should've produced. Hathaway suggested they'd found the evidence they were looking for.

They'd just checked the alley (no magic there) when Lewis stopped suddenly.

"What is it?" Hathaway asked. "The crying again?"

"Not crying," Lewis said shakily. "Begging."

Hathaway rested a hand on Lewis's shoulder, trying to provide some form of comfort. "Can you hear the words?"

Lewis nodded. "Don't do this. Please don't do this. Over and over again."

"Do you recognize the voice?" Hathaway asked.

"Yes," Lewis said, turning to look at Hathaway. "It's mine."


	10. Listening

Hathaway waited all bloody day for Lewis to bring up what had happened in the alley. Finally, he couldn't wait any longer. "Are we going to talk about this?"

"No," Lewis said.

No. Of course not. Hathaway should've known better. "I understand you're worried…"

Lewis wheeled on him. "Do you? Heard yourself crying and begging for mercy lately, have you?"

Hathaway felt a surge of annoyance. "No, and magic's never gone wrong for me either."

Lewis's anger seemed to ebb away. "I'm sorry, James."

Hathaway shook his head. "It's all right. I'd be upset too, in your place."

Lewis sighed. "I just can't think what could bother me so much."

Hathaway couldn't either. He'd seen Lewis in dire circumstances, with his life in danger. He hadn't cried then, or begged. Hathaway reached out tentatively to touch Lewis's shoulder, and flinched at the raw fear Lewis was hiding. He'd been lying; he did have some idea what might upset him so much.

Lewis pulled away. "That a regular touch or are you checking on me?" There was an edge to his voice.

Hathaway found himself stammering. "I was just…I wasn't trying to…"

Lewis took a deep breath, nodding. "You can't help it. I know." He inclined his head toward the door. "Come on. I could do with a drink."

Hathaway nodded. "Why don't I host you tonight?" He knew Lewis would never talk about anything if they were at a pub or somewhere else public. He might not want to talk anyway, but at least Hathaway would know he'd made the effort.

Lewis gave him a brief, grateful smile. "Thanks, man."

***

They were each staring into their second beer of the night when Lewis said, "I may not have been completely honest with you. Before."

Hathaway gave Lewis a questioning look. "How?"

Lewis opened his mouth, hesitated, and then decided to speak anyway. "There's only one thing that could frighten me like that, only one thing that could happen to me."

Suddenly Hathaway understood. "To be charmed again."

Lewis nodded silently. "That forgetting charm…I lost almost my whole self and I didn't know. And all the things I've been reading about…marionette charms and…" He shook his head. "No one would know it wasn't me."

"I would," Hathaway said. "You can feel…" He shuddered at the memory. "You can feel when someone has a marionette charm cast on him. You can hear his mind screaming for help."

Lewis was looking at Hathaway with no small amount of alarm. "Were you…"

"No," Hathaway said, with a shake of his head. "Not me. In one of my lectures, we had a volunteer undergo a marionette charm, to show us what it was like. To look at him, you'd never know he was under someone else's control. But when I touched him…" He shuddered again. The top layer of his mind had been all cheer and conviviality, but beneath, where the real man had been, was a mass of fear and panic and the overwhelming sense of being trapped. "I waited until after the lecture to touch him again, to make sure the charm had been removed."

"Good of you to do that," Lewis said.

Hathaway looked down. "I had to be sure." He looked at Lewis. "Any charm anyone could cast on you, I could find it. All I'd have to do is touch you."

"I know the protection charm blocks most things," Lewis said. "I'm probably stupid to worry about this, but…"

"No, you're not stupid," Hathaway said. "There are still things that bother me about magic, and I've been living with it my whole life; why shouldn't there be things that bother you?"

Lewis half-smiled. "I'm not sure that's very comforting."

Hathaway grimaced. "Sorry."

Lewis shook his head. "It's all right. I don't think it's possible for me to be comforted tonight. At least I can't hear the crying any more."

"That's good," Hathaway said.

"I'll take it," Lewis said.

Hathaway looked at Lewis, debating whether or not to say what he was thinking, or whether to say anything at all.

"I told you once," Hathaway said, "I won't let anyone hurt you."

"But if it's the future," Lewis said quietly. "Innocent saw what would happen with you and Stilbury, and it happened. This has to happen too, doesn't it?"

For the most part, yes. But Hathaway didn't have to tell Lewis that. Lewis knew already.

Lewis reached out and took Hathaway's hand, even knowing it would allow Hathaway to see all his secrets and all his emotions. Hathaway thought it was the bravest thing Lewis could've done.

"That's enough thinking for tonight," Lewis murmured.

Hathaway nodded. He could still feel Lewis's nerves zinging with unsteady electricity, but Hathaway could also feel that being here helped. That being here with Hathaway helped.

"Come on," Hathaway said. "Let's watch one of these awful programmes you like." 

And, as he had hoped might happen, Lewis laughed.


	11. Cornered

Hathaway and Lewis were outside, discussing who might have set loose the twenty multicoloured rabbits that had inexplicably appeared on the St. Edmund's quad that morning.

"James?"

Lewis turned first, and then, after a minute, so did Hathaway. A cheerful bloke in casual clothes hurried to catch up with them.

"Steven," Hathaway said, and only through his magic did Lewis hear the note of apprehension in Hathaway's voice. Steven…wasn't that the bloke who'd threatened Hathaway in lecture and brought on his first bout of breaking windows? Lewis thought it was.

"I thought you'd sworn off magic," Steven said amiably, "but Douglas tells me you're back in the game! Is that true?"

Hathaway nodded warily.

Steven grinned and clapped Hathaway on the shoulder. "I always thought you were too talented to swear it off forever."

Lewis was reeling a bit from the sharp discrepancy between Steven's words and how he was really feeling. He seemed cheerful enough, but every time he spoke, his words dripped with fear.

"You all right?" Hathaway asked, and Lewis knew what he was really asking-- _is he all right?_

Lewis shook his head. "I don't think so."

Hathaway didn't hide his concern. "It's good to see you, Steven, but my governor's poorly, so…"

Steven hissed a phrase, touching Lewis's arm, and suddenly Lewis felt as though he'd had the wind knocked out of him. _The protective spell. He's taken it down._ Before he could catch his breath, Steven uttered another few short phrases Lewis didn't know, and he found himself in an alley with Steven. Hathaway was nowhere to be seen. Lewis staggered to the nearest wall, bracing himself against it and trying to recover from the blow of the protection charm being stripped away.

Then Hathaway appeared in the alley. "You aren't very good at escaping, Steven."

"I didn't want to escape," Steven said, looking smug. "I wanted you to follow me."

Hathaway didn't say anything, but Steven rose off the ground and hit the brick wall. Hard. Lewis felt a sudden blow to his own back, and he cried out helplessly, falling to his knees. Tears sprang to his eyes at the intensity of the injury, and he attempted to keep his sounds of pain as quiet as he could.

"Ah," Steven panted, triumph in his tone. "There you are, James. There's the monster."

"What have you done to Inspector Lewis?" Hathaway asked, voice icy with rage.

Steven laughed. "Insurance. Anything you do to me, you'll also do to him."

Hathaway covered the distance between them in two strides. "What do you want?"

"I want you to feel just as helpless as I felt that day you attacked me," Steven said.

"I was defending myself," Hathaway said.

"Of course you were. Just like you are now," Steven said, voice still unsteady.

Hathaway's jaw set, and with what seemed a herculean effort, he set Steven on his feet again, looking at Lewis. "Are you all right?"

Lewis was in a fair amount of pain and could barely move, but he nodded. "Don't worry," he managed to pant.

Hathaway's attention turned back to Steven. "Let him go."

"Or you'll do what?" Steven asked.

"It's a trade," Hathaway said. "You promise not to hurt him and I'll take my defences down. No protections. You can cast any spell you want on me. I won't fight back."

"No," Lewis whispered. "Don't do this. Please don't do this." Oh, no. He'd heard those words before…had heard himself saying those words before. That was the missing piece. He'd got it wrong. He hadn't been pleading with someone who'd been threatening him after all. He'd been pleading with Hathaway.

Hathaway gave Lewis a look of regret. "There's no other choice." And the other message beneath his words: _goodbye._

"I promise not to hurt your friend," Steven said. "It's you I want." He shook his head. "You're dangerous, James. I can't let you hurt anyone else."

Hathaway muttered a few words, and Lewis could feel the protection around Hathaway drop. "Do what you want."

No. Lewis would not let this happen. He absolutely, unequivocally would not.

As Steven began to speak a charm, Lewis whispered a charm of his own. It was a charm of last resort, one that Lewis had learnt with the hope he'd never have to use it. To make sure Steven wouldn't be able to fend it off, Lewis wasn't casting the charm on Steven; he was casting it on himself. He'd been studying magic for a while now, and one of the things he did know was that a spell binding two people couldn't be anything but reciprocal.

Any spell cast on Steven would affect Lewis, yes. But any spell cast on Lewis would also affect Steven.

And before Steven could finish his charm to do whatever he was going to do to Hathaway, Lewis said the word that would turn them both to stone.

***

He could feel. He wasn't meant to be able to feel. He couldn't move, but he could feel sensations. Warmth. Touch. Someone was touching his arm.

"Sir? Can you hear me? Sir?"

He could. He could hear. He shouldn't be able to do that either. He felt as though he were slowly thawing, the cold brittle nothingness slowly ebbing away. _I'm here._

A sharp indrawn breath. "Sir? Do you know where you are?"

Where he was? He didn't even remember what had happened. Then suddenly, something inside him thawed, and he gasped for air, trying to reach for whoever was touching him. His arms still wouldn't move. _Help me._

"I'm trying. Keep breathing. Slowly. In and out. You're coming out of a very strong charm."

A charm. He almost remembered. And then it flooded back…being in the alley. Steven preparing to attack Hathaway, and Lewis trying his desperate gambit. _James! Are you all right? He was…he wanted to…_

"I'm fine, sir." Hathaway's voice sounded warm. "He didn't have the chance to do what he meant to. Open your eyes and see."

Lewis tried, but his eyelids seemed not to move. _Still heavy. Please. Keep talking to me. Tell me what happened._

He could feel Hathaway's hand tighten on his arm now. "Steven wasn't expecting you to do what you did. You both turned to stone at the same moment. And the amount of magic happening in that alley drew the attention of the police on patrol, who came running to help. We brought you back here, and Innocent called in a few favours to bring over some charmcasters. They've broken the bond between you and Steven…they did that first. It took three charmcasters working at full power to undo your charm. You're more powerful than you thought."

Lewis snorted. _Desperate, more like._

Hathaway patted his arm. "Steven's in custody now. Safely tucked away." He paused. "Thank you."

 _You said you'd never let him hurt me. Did you think I wouldn't do the same for you?_ And with massive effort, Lewis managed to open his eyes.

Hathaway was smiling at him.

Innocent was apparently in the room, because after a moment, she appeared in Lewis's range of vision. "Good. You're awake. If you can hear me, blink once."

Lewis blinked.

"You don't do things bloody halfway, do you?" Innocent asked. "Still. I'm glad to see you both relatively well."

 _Relatively well?_ Lewis managed to turn his head toward Hathaway. _What does she mean? You said you weren't hurt._

"I'm not," Hathaway said. Without moving his mouth.

Lewis's body might be slow, but his mind was quick as ever, and it didn't take long to add up the evidence. Hathaway was touching his arm, because touch was the way Hathaway's magic worked. Innocent didn't seem to think Hathaway was unscathed. Hathaway hadn't spoken a single word to Innocent, even though she'd been in the room all the time.

 _I was too late,_ Lewis realised. _He took your voice._

Hathaway shrugged. "What better way to render a charmcaster helpless?"

Of course. If Hathaway's voice was taken…charms couldn't be cast without using your voice. 

"Help him," Lewis croaked, mouth moving slowly and laboriously.

"They've tried," Hathaway said. "Steven had been working for years on his charm to use against me. It was enormously complex. The work of a lifetime."

"Can't someone...undo it?" Lewis asked, voice rough.

Innocent looked regretful. "I only know one person powerful enough."

And that person was Hathaway. Who no longer had a voice.

_James. I'm so sorry._

"No." Hathaway's grip on his arm tightened, and Hathaway shook his head firmly. "I'm all right. Compared to what I could've lost…"

Lewis shivered, moving his hand to touch Hathaway's arm. It was true; Hathaway was alive and breathing, and other than his voice, he was uninjured. It was certainly one of the better potential outcomes.

Innocent rested a hand on Hathaway's shoulder. "We should let him rest."

Hathaway nodded, letting go of Lewis's arm and following Innocent from the room. Still, Lewis could almost hear Hathaway say he'd see Lewis later as he left. Lewis closed his eyes. Innocent was right; he did need to rest, to regain his energy. But once he was rested, Lewis already knew what his first task would be.

He was going to get Hathaway's voice back.


	12. Voiceless

The most difficult thing was trying to look as though he wasn't keeping an eye on Lewis to make sure the stone charm truly was broken.

At first, when Steven had stopped speaking in the alley, Hathaway hadn't understood. Then he'd seen that Steven wasn't moving or breathing. He'd turned to check Lewis was all right, and that was when he had seen the grey colour of Lewis's skin and hair. The worst part had been touching him. It had been like touching a brick wall. Even with his sensitivity to magic, Hathaway could feel no trace of the man he knew in the stone statue in his image.

It was only when he tried to call for help that Hathaway had realised one of Steven's charms had been completed after all. Frantic, he'd run out to the street, waving his arms to get attention and then using his fingers to signal 9-9-9. It was the best he could do.

By the time some MIT coppers came, alerted by the extravagant use of magic in the area as well as the emergency call, Hathaway had been beside Lewis, trying in vain to reach him mentally. After a few minutes of fruitless attempts to communicate, someone had thought to produce a notebook, and Hathaway had jotted down the entire story.

Losing his voice was an irritant. Losing Lewis would have been unthinkable. Hathaway had kept a hand on Lewis's arm after the charmcasters had broken his spell, and it had been an enormous relief to feel the first glimmerings of Lewis's mind returning to consciousness. Hathaway was glad to have been there to help Lewis wake up.

That didn't mean Hathaway didn't worry about the charm reasserting itself, even though he knew the odds of that were almost impossible. Lewis probably couldn't see the minimal effects the charm had caused in him; there was a stillness to him at times that was almost inhuman. When he sat at his desk, there were times he barely moved, though the immobility was beginning to fade in small increments. Hathaway was glad.

He never wanted to touch Lewis and feel that emptiness again.

***

The first day they'd both returned to work, Lewis had stood awkwardly by Hathaway's desk for such a long time that Hathaway finally looked up, irritation plain on his face.

"I know it won't be the same," Lewis said awkwardly, "but would you like me to cast your protection charm for you?"

Hathaway, touched by Lewis's thoughtfulness, nodded, and Lewis took Hathaway's hand, murmuring the words. For the rest of the day, there was the barest blue glimmer at the edges of Hathaway's vision--a reminder that Lewis was protecting him.

Every morning after that, without comment and without being asked, Lewis cast a protection charm on Hathaway so he wouldn't be defenceless.

Lewis was tired more often than he had been before the incident in the alley, but Hathaway suspected that was another sign of the stone charm's slowness to wear off. Hathaway had been watching to see if it would ebb as well, but it didn't seem to be fading so far.

***

Hathaway scribbled Lewis a note asking, _Fancy a pint?_

Lewis shook his head. "Sorry, James. I can't tonight."

"There's no shame in resting," Hathaway said…or tried to say. Sometimes he still forgot he couldn't speak.

To his astonishment, Lewis responded. "I know. Just…don't like taking the time, I suppose."

Hathaway gaped at him. "How did you…?"

Lewis looked at him. "How did I what?"

"I'm not talking! I can't…" Hathaway shook his head.

"Doesn't matter," Lewis said. "I can always hear you."

There was something oddly comforting in that.

***

When they were involved in investigations now, Lewis had begun automatically introducing Hathaway. One day, a young witness they were questioning asked warily, "Doesn't he ever talk?"

"No," Lewis said. "He's a mute." And then, mischief glinting in his eyes, he added, "An incredibly big mute."

Hathaway hadn't expected the _Young Frankenstein_ reference, and he couldn't repress a snort of laughter. Lewis gave him a warm grin.

It only occurred to Hathaway later that Lewis had probably been searching for a way to make him laugh for the past week, or even longer. Just to make things seem a bit more normal.

***

They only touched once a day, in the morning, when Lewis cast the protection charm for Hathaway. Hathaway knew Lewis sometimes felt touch as an intrusion, and he didn't want Lewis to feel Hathaway was trying to eavesdrop on his thoughts.

If Lewis wanted to be touched, he'd ask for it.

***

One afternoon, Lewis said, "Come back to mine tonight for a drink?"

Hathaway nodded, smiling to show his appreciation.

"Sorry I haven't been the most social bloke lately," Lewis said.

Hathaway shrugged to say it didn't matter.

"You can talk to me if you want to," Lewis said later, as they headed for his flat. "Told you before, I can hear you."

Hathaway shook his head. He thought it must look odd, him speaking without sound, and he was trying to break himself of the habit. If he was going to be voiceless for the rest of his life, he needed to find ways to work with that, not to ignore it.

"Ah," Lewis said, unlocking his door.

Hathaway found a comfortable seat on the sofa, but Lewis hovered nearby nervously. Hathaway raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

"I've learnt a new charm," Lewis said. "Do you mind if…can I try it?"

Hathaway nodded. It would be nice to have something new to occupy his mind.

Lewis took an index card form his pocket and then reached for Hathaway's hand. Hathaway gave Lewis a quizzical look, but took it. He had just enough time to feel Lewis's excitement and nervousness when Lewis read the charm in a nervous voice.

 _Go on,_ Lewis thought but didn't say.

Hathaway frowned at him.

 _Go on and talk,_ Lewis clarified.

"You know I can't…" Hathaway's hand flew to his throat, eyes wide. He'd spoken, hadn't he? Aloud? "How did you…?" But his voice was higher somehow. Different. And Lewis was smiling broadly. Hathaway felt the answer click into place in his mind.

"You gave me your voice," he whispered.

Lewis nodded proudly, and through their joined hands, Hathaway saw Lewis staying up late, poring over esoteric charm books and taking notes. He hadn't been tired because of the remnants of the stone charm after all.

 _Innocent said you were the only one who could undo the charm,_ Lewis thought. _So now you've got a voice to do it._

Hathaway shook his head, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "Thank you." He paused. "Have you got a pen and paper?"

Lewis nodded, letting go of Hathaway's hand to get them.

It took Hathaway nearly an hour to puzzle out the pieces he would need for a charm that would return his voice and Lewis's voice to the places they belonged.

"I think I've got it," Hathaway said, still a bit amused to hear Lewis's voice coming from his own mouth. "What do you think?"

Lewis nodded, taking Hathaway's hand.

As Hathaway read the words, he could feel the air around them crackle--usually a good sign. At the end, there was a sharp warmth in his throat, and from Lewis's startled reaction, Hathaway could tell he felt something similar.

"So," Lewis said, and then he cleared his throat. "Well, I've got mine."

Hathaway hummed experimentally, and was rewarded with the sound of his own voice. It sounded almost odd to him now, as though he'd gone years without hearing it. "So have I."

Lewis sighed, and Hathaway could feel the waves of relief rolling forth from him. "I knew you could do it."

"No," Hathaway said. "No, you did it. You…created a charm of your own as a solution to a problem that needed solving. That's beyond what a casual student of magic can do." He was amazed at the lengths Lewis had gone to…that he'd gone to for Hathaway's sake. It was humbling in the best of ways.

Lewis didn't say anything, but Hathaway felt him think, through their joined hands, _I just wanted you well._

"Thank you," Hathaway said. It was so strange to be able to hear himself speak again.

"Good strange?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway smiled. "Very good strange."

Lewis looked pleased.

Hathaway tilted his head. "Is that drink still on offer?"

Lewis nodded, letting go of Hathaway's hand. "Of course."

Funny. When Hathaway couldn't feel Lewis in his mind…he almost missed him.

Hathaway shook off the thought, getting to his feet. "Here. Let me help."

Lewis smiled at him, and as they worked silently beside each other in the kitchen, getting glasses and putting together something to eat, Hathaway realised this was what he'd been missing.

It wasn't regaining his voice that made things feel normal again. It was having Lewis next to him.


	13. Songbird

Hathaway and Lewis were passing a gate when Lewis stopped. Hathaway kept walking for a moment, then paused, turning back.

Lewis was staring at one of the stone pillars to one side of the gate, touching it. "There's a bird."

Hathaway nodded, crossing back to Lewis. He could see it now--a carved songbird, head and shoulders (did birds have shoulders?) protruding from the stone, looking as though it would emerge fully from the pillar at any moment.

"Wants to sing," Lewis said softly.

It took Hathaway a moment to understand, and he frowned slightly at Lewis. "It's stone. It can't want anything."

"Everything wants something," Lewis said quietly. "People and things. You just have to hear them asking." He looked at Hathaway. "Come on. Touch it and see."

Hathaway touched the stone bird, but he didn't feel anything. It reminded him of touching Lewis when Lewis had turned himself to stone, and he withdrew his hand, suppressing a shudder. "I can't feel it."

Lewis frowned slightly, but his attention seemed to centre on the bird again. He touched his fingertips to it on both sides, whispering softly; Hathaway could feel the charm Lewis was casting, though he couldn't tell what it was. He stayed silent and waited.

The bird was still stone. That much couldn't be changed. And a stone bird could never have the speed of a living bird. But slowly, the bird moved its head, tipping it quizzically to one side. And then it opened its mouth and let out a few beautiful, pure notes that seemed to hang in the air. That, Hathaway thought, was the sound of something getting its heart's desire.

"Better," Lewis said, turning to Hathaway. "Yeah?"

Hathaway, a bit dumbfounded by Lewis's instinctive ability to know what was needed and how to give it, simply nodded. "Yeah."

Lewis touched Hathaway's hand, and because Lewis could hear it, Hathaway was able to listen to the bird singing almost the whole way back to the nick.


	14. Scrying

"Got homework this week," Lewis informed Hathaway.

Hathaway looked up from the case file he'd been examining. "Oh?"

Lewis nodded. "We're meant to practise scrying."

Hathaway smiled. "Oh, that should be fun! Don't worry if you can't control what you see the first few times. It takes a lot of work to scry with intent."

"Right," Lewis said. He hesitated. "Would you mind coming round?"

Hathaway tipped his head to one side. "You don't want to try it on your own first?"

"I don't, actually," Lewis said. "And I'd rather have someone there in case I pronounce something wrong and turn meself into a fern." The unspoken message was clear: _I know you can fix anything, and I trust you to do it._

"I'd be happy to," Hathaway said. "Saturday afternoon all right?"

"Just what I was thinking," Lewis said.

"And I'll bring lunch."

Lewis frowned. "I didn't ask you so you'd…"

"No, I know that," Hathaway said. "And if you'd rather I didn't bring lunch, I won't. Only…" He shrugged in self-deprecation. "The way I was raised, if you're invited somewhere, you bring something."

"Yeah, but you're a friend, so you don't need to," Lewis said. He grinned. "Not that I'm turning down lunch, mind."

Hathaway smiled. "I'll make sandwiches."

"Perfect," Lewis said.

***

The discussion didn't turn to scrying until after they'd eaten lunch.

"So," Hathaway said, "how have you been scrying so far? In glass or in water?"

"Mainly water," Lewis said. "I haven't had much luck. I see little flashes of colour and that's it."

Hathaway nodded. That wasn't uncommon; scrying took a good deal more practise than most other magical procedures. "What have you been using to hold the water?"

"Does it matter?" Lewis asked. "The lecturer said there's no difference." 

Hathaway felt a flare of annoyance--oversimplification as per bloody usual. "There is, actually. It's not necessarily measured by expense--I've seen classmates of mine buy ridiculously pricey scrying vessels that were useless--but by material."

Lewis frowned at him. "Material?"

Hathaway nodded. "So far, you've shown an affinity for stone. I would try scrying with water in a stone bowl or dish of some kind."

Lewis pulled a face. "You do realise that only works if I've got one."

Hathaway reached into his rucksack and removed a stone bowl, its sides smoothed through years of use. "I've brought one."

Lewis assessed it for a moment. "How old is that?"

"A hundred years and a bit," Hathaway said. "One of the few family possessions I cared about."

Lewis shook his head. "I can't use that."

"You probably can," Hathaway said. "I can't. My own affinity seems to be for glass and mirrors. I can scry in water if I have to, but it's exhausting."

Lewis looked at the bowl, then back at Hathaway. "You think this will make a difference?"

Hathaway nodded. "I do."

He took it to the sink to fill it; given Lewis's reaction, he assumed Lewis would be a bit nervous to do much with it--afraid of breaking it, probably. He returned with the filled bowl and placed it on the table in front of Lewis.

Lewis took a deep breath. "All right." He placed his hands on the sides of the bowl and muttered a charm. From the way the water smoothed, Hathaway could tell the charm was working.

Lewis was looking at the water, fascinated. "I see something."

"What?"

Lewis gave him a startled look. "Can you not see?"

Hathaway shook his head. "No. Only you can."

Lewis looked back at the water. "It's Lyn. Reading to her bairn." He seemed to listen for a moment, and then chuckled. "Paddington Bear." He looked at Hathaway. "Is this happening now?"

Hathaway nodded. "It's easiest to scry something or someone in the present. One of the first uses for scrying was actually military strategy. Armies would spy on each other to discover their strategies and plan accordingly."

"Did it work?"

"Sometimes. If the other army knew they were being seen, they might purposely stage a mis leading strategy session."

"And the people scrying couldn't check the future to see what they'd really do?"

Hathaway shook his head. "The past is more difficult, and the future only comes in fragments. Like the time you heard it."

Lewis shuddered. "Don't remind me. I hope that never happens again."

Hathaway nodded, silently agreeing. Knowing the future wasn't as people imagined; more often than not, it was a burden, and a heavy one, as it had been for Lewis.

Lewis looked at the water, and his brow furrowed. "I can't see them, but I can still hear them."

"That's your power working," Hathaway said. "People without visual magic have to concentrate hard to keep an image for more than a few minutes…but most people don't hear the sound that goes along with the image they see."

Lewis was listening carefully to Hathaway, but it was clear that some of his attention was also on his daughter's voice. After a moment, he shook his head. "It's gone now."

"Well," Hathaway said lightly, "you saw something easily identifiable on your first go. I'd call that a success."

"It was easier with this," Lewis said, touching the side of the bowl.

"Do you want to keep it?" Hathaway asked.

Lewis stared at him. "I can't! You've just said it was a family heirloom. You'll want to keep it, surely."

Hathaway bit back the retort that he was never going to have a family, so there was no sense in him keeping it. "I told you before, I can't use it. It doesn't work for me." He paused, then added, "I'd like you to have it. I know you'll take care of it."

"I might not," Lewis said anxiously. "I might drop it on the floor and smash it to bits."

Hathaway shrugged. "it's yours to smash."

Lewis touched the side of the bowl again. "Thank you. It's funny…I can almost feel something of your family left behind in the stone somewhere."

"I can't," Hathaway said abruptly. "Not at all."

Lewis seemed to regard that as a close to the conversation (not incorrectly) and changed the subject. "What do you scry with?"

"Oh, I brought that too," Hathaway said, pulling a plain but serviceable mirror from his rucksack. He'd had the mirror since Cambridge; his friends had teased him about its increasingly battered appearance, but nothing else had ever worked as well as this mirror had for him.

Lewis looked a bit excited. "Can you show me?"

"You won't be able to see it," Hathaway reminded him. "Only the person scrying can see the images."

Lewis thought about this a moment. "What if I touch you? You said you could hear the stone bird singing further away because I touched you."

"it's possible," Hathaway said slowly. Usually when he touched someone, the connection was unidirectional; Hathaway could feel thoughts and emotions from the other person, but the other person generally had no idea he was doing it.

But Lewis did know. He'd used the connection to converse with Hathaway a few times when Hathaway's voice had been taken…and those had been two-way conversations. Could Lewis now get a sense of Hathaway's thoughts and feelings just from touching him? Hathaway wasn't sure he liked the idea, even as he knew it was wildly unfair of him to object now that such a connection might be mutual. _I don't know if I want him to see me._

"We can try it," Hathaway said, quashing his inner objections so Lewis wouldn't see them.

Lewis beamed. One enjoyable thing about Lewis learning to do magic was that most aspects of it excited Lewis, and that excitement was fun to witness even if Hathaway didn't entirely share it. "Right. Shoulder okay?"

Hathaway nodded, and Lewis's hand rested gently on his shoulder. Hathaway took a series of deep breaths; he found scrying worked best if he was in something of a meditative state. Finally, with his own thoughts calm and Lewis's a steady thrum of encouragement at the back of his mind, he whispered the scrying charm, gazing into the mirror…

…and at the face of Scarlett Mortmaigne.

The image only lasted a moment, but that was enough to shake Hathaway from his meditative state. Not Scarlett. He didn't want to think of her.

As children, they'd been best friends…the only two on the estate who knew magic. They had to be silent about it with the other children, but they could share charms and talk about their hopes for the future when they were alone.

When they'd met again at Crevecoeur, it had been such an innocuous conversation--or had seemed to be. Why aren't you in the magic division of CID, she'd asked, and like a fool, he'd told her about swearing off magic. She'd known then he was defenceless.

When she'd hugged him goodbye, she'd placed a love charm on him.

He'd recognised it, of course; the words were familiar though he'd never cast a love charm on anyone, himself included. But knowing you were under a charm didn't release you. He'd had to love her. And he had.

The only saving grace of the incident was that Lewis had been clearheaded enough to solve a good portion of the case without him. Even when Hathaway had discovered Scarlett's part in the cover-up, he'd been fighting an inner voice that begged him not to be cruel to her, because she might never love him again.

She had been cruel enough to tell him she'd never loved him before she removed the love charm. She couldn't protect herself or her family with the charm, but she could hurt him.

Returned to himself, Hathaway had been horrified at the thoroughness with which he'd almost destroyed his life. It was better that Lewis didn't know magic had led him to it. What would he think of a sergeant so weak-willed he'd handed control of himself to a murder suspect with one thoughtless comment? Well, Hathaway had learnt his lesson. He'd never even discuss magic with anyone again. It was the only way to stay safe.

Hathaway's emotions were in such turmoil that it took him a moment to realise that some portion of the horror and sympathy and reassurance wasn't even his. It was Lewis's.

_Oh, no._

Hathaway jerked away from Lewis's touch, scrambling far enough away that Lewis couldn't touch him again. He pressed his back to the nearest wall, ignoring the window beside his head.

"I'm sorry," Lewis said. "I didn't mean to…"

"How much did you see?" Hathaway demanded, but he sounded more frightened than he meant to, and shit, he was shaking.

"A bit."

"How much?"

Now Lewis looked embarrassed. "Everything."

Hathaway exhaled, sinking into a seated position, back still against the wall. He wanted to run, but his legs wouldn't hold him. He wanted to scream or cry, but his voice didn't seem to work. What he did do was turn and retch all over Lewis's floor.

"Sorry," he whispered, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

Lewis knelt beside him, reaching out. "It's all right. Do you think you're…"

Hathaway flinched away from his hands. "Don't touch me."

He didn't have to be touching Lewis to feel Lewis's hurt, but Lewis covered it well, lowering his hand. "All right."

Hathaway sat there numbly while Lewis retrieved a bucket from beneath the sink for Hathaway, silently and methodically mopping up the mess Hathaway had made. For a while, Hathaway thought Lewis might not say anything else. But he did.

"I understand you wouldn't have chosen to share that with me," Lewis said quietly. "But I thought…after everything we've been through…you trusted me at least a bit."

"I trusted her," Hathaway whispered. "Look what she did to me."

It was a needlessly cruel thing to say, and Hathaway knew that even as he was saying it. But Lewis didn't look angry or hurt. He just looked sad.

"You're right," Lewis said.

Hathaway stared at him. "What?"

"Your best friend did to you what you were most afraid of," Lewis said. "I'd have a hard time trusting people after that."

That wasn't what Lewis was supposed to say. He was supposed to get angry…blame James…storm off.

"You're not angry?" Hathaway asked.

"Only with her," Lewis said quietly. "Not with you, lad."

Thoughts crowded Hathaway's brain-- _I don't deserve your kindness_ and _I don't want to be like this_ and _help me_. Nothing he could say aloud.

Lewis sat on the floor a safe distance from Hathaway. "Whatever you need, all right?"

Hathaway took a deep breath and forced himself to respond. "Thank you. I'm…I'm sorry for ruining…"

"No," Lewis said. "My fault. I overreached."

Hathaway's lips twitched involuntarily. "Care to share the blame?"

Lewis gave him a slight smile. "If you like." He paused. "Fancy a cuppa?"

Hathaway nodded slowly. "Please."

Lewis could always be counted on to act as though everything were normal. But Hathaway wondered if he'd be able to convince himself of that now.

He flinched as he heard the window beside him crack.


	15. Bonded

It was five in the morning when Lewis heard the knock on his front door. 

He wasn't at all surprised to find Hathaway outside. Hathaway looked awful, as though he'd barely slept. Lewis supposed he probably had done. Yesterday had been uncomfortable for a few moments, but Hathaway had a tendency to think that things that were painful for a moment had destroyed him in Lewis's eyes forever. Lewis hoped Hathaway would get beyond that at some point, but apparently it hadn't happened yet.

"Come in," Lewis said. "Sit if you like."

Hathaway came in silently, plopping onto the sofa as though his legs could barely hold him.

"Do you want something to eat?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway shook his head, hands in his lap. "I wanted to explain."

"There's nothing to explain," Lewis said.

"No, there is," Hathaway said. He looked at his hands, his mouth and jaw working as they did when something was bothering him. "I know it's not right, but…" He grimaced. "Touch was always safe. People could be visible to me while I was invisible to them. And if I could know them, know about them…" He shook his head. "You're thinking it's not fair, and you're right. It's not. I was invading their privacy but it felt all right because they didn't know about it." He glanced at Lewis, then lowered his eyes. "And that includes you. So I understand if it seems…" His mouth twisted. "…hypocritical, or…"

"It doesn't," Lewis said quietly. "I saw your worst moment, one you didn't want me to see. That wasn't right, even if it was an accident."

Hathaway shook his head. "But…it should've balanced things. I'd already seen yours."

Lewis felt a bit chilled. "What?"

"Your memories of your family," Hathaway said, looking at Lewis. "I carried them."

Lewis barely trusted himself to speak. "Val."

Hathaway nodded.

Lewis had never asked Hathaway which of Lewis's memories he had seen or experienced, but…it seemed Val's death was one of them. At the beginning of all this magic business, Lewis might've felt as though his privacy had been invaded, but…now it felt oddly appropriate that Hathaway had seen something so important.

"Well," Lewis said slowly, "I suppose we're even."

"But we're not," Hathaway said. "Even with me telling you that, you seem…perfectly agreeable. Whereas yesterday…" He shook his head.

Lewis understood now. Hathaway had always seen touch as something safe, because it was a tool he had to protect himself, and a tool others couldn't see him use. And yesterday, not only had it failed to provide protection, it had been turned on him. And touch Hathaway couldn't control was something to be feared.

"I think I understand," Lewis said, sitting beside him. "You know I would never have chosen to…spy on you that way."

Hathaway nodded. "I know." He exhaled one of those humourless laughs that meant he was trying to be more cheerful than he felt. "It's stupid, but…I've never had a bond before, and it…unnerves me a bit."

Lewis frowned. "Bond. How d'you mean?"

Hathaway gave Lewis a startled glance. "I thought you knew."

"Wouldn't be asking for an explanation if I did," Lewis said.

Hathaway took a deep breath. "Well, in the…magic world, there are things called bonds. They're somewhat unique in that you can't cast a charm to create bonds. They either form or they don't. They connect two people through some form of magic. They take time to form, so people with…lengthy relationships…have a greater chance of forming bonds."

"You're saying…we have one?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway nodded. "Probably have had since the confrontation with Steven. After you woke up…do you remember?…we spoke to each other with our thoughts."

"Yeah," Lewis said, "but you were touching me. I thought that was just your power."

"My power only lets me hear you," Hathaway said. "To talk to each other…to feel each other's thoughts…the bond must have begun then. I didn't notice because there were so many other things happening at the same time."

"And yesterday," Lewis said, trying to work out the rest of it, "when you were touching me, it was the bond that showed me what you were thinking?"

Hathaway nodded.

"I have to tell you, James, this is bloody peculiar," Lewis said.

Hathaway laughed. "I thought you knew, because…you were so well-adjusted."

"That wasn't adjustment; it was ignorance," Lewis said, smiling a bit. "So…this bond…can it hurt us?"

Hathaway shook his head. "No. All it does is make us more aware of each other. But…" He hesitated. "There's no known way to break it or destroy it. Once it exists. It's going to be there forever."

Lewis nodded slowly. "That's what you spent half the night working out?"

Hathaway nodded. "Yesterday made it obvious. You couldn't have seen my thoughts…my memories…any other way."

"But I can't see them now," Lewis said. "Seems as though it takes your magic as a starting point. Not mine."

Hathaway nodded but said nothing. What was going on in that head of his? It certainly wasn't the first time Lewis had wondered that, but it was the first time a whisper in his mind said, _You could touch him and find out._

No. In spite of yesterday's accident, Hathaway trusted Lewis, and Lewis was going to be worthy of that trust.

"I know you don't like it," Lewis said, not sure how to say this or even what 'this' was going to turn out to be when he was done saying it. "So I'll…I can be careful. And I promise never to touch you unless you ask me."

Hathaway silently held out his hand to Lewis.

Lewis frowned at him. "Are you sure? You've not had much sleep, and…you said you're not comfortable with this."

"I'm not," Hathaway said. "Not entirely. But…" He met Lewis's eyes. "There are so many things to fear in the world. I don't want to be afraid of you."

Lewis nodded. "All right." He reached out and took Hathaway's hand.

Hathaway's nerves were roaring away, but even stronger than that feeling of nervousness was a sense of relief. Lewis exhaled slowly at the calming feeling, and Hathaway seemed to react similarly.

"Is that coming from me or you?" Lewis asked.

"Maybe neither," Hathaway said. "From things I've read…anything that confirms a bond is…soothing to the participants."

Lewis could feel Hathaway's intellectual curiosity racing away somewhere at back of it all-- _what are the limits of our bond? Is it always a relatively positive experience?_ Bloody hell, the man never stopped thinking, did he?

Hathaway smiled slightly. "Hardly ever."

"Sorry," Lewis said, feeling sheepish. "Still getting used to you hearing what I think."

Reassurance through the bond from Hathaway. "It's all right. I'll probably share some things with you I'll wish I hadn't." He exhaled. "Can we…sit for a bit? Just…sit?"

Lewis nodded. "Of course."

As they sat there, bond fully open for both of them, it was hard for Lewis to tell what bits of their generally contented mood were coming from Hathaway and what bits were coming from him.

Maybe that was as it should be.


	16. Immersive

It was an hour until Hathaway and Lewis's shifts ended, and they were sorting through boxes of evidence in a suspected magical murder case when Lewis picked up a small black box covered in plastic. "What's this?"

"It's called an immersive," Hathaway said. "The magic equivalent of renting a video."

"Didn't see anything that looked like a player," Lewis said.

"You wouldn't need a player," Hathaway said. "Charmcasters encode each one of them with a story. When you activate the immersive, you become one of the characters in the story. You see everything through that character's eyes."

"There's a whole story in one of these?" Lewis asked, tapping the plastic the box was wrapped in.

"Not a whole one. It usually takes two or three to hold a complete story." Hathaway peered at the edge of the immersive and nodded. "This is labeled one of three."

"How do you activate it?" Lewis asked, pulling the device out of its wrapper.

"Sir, don't!" Hathaway said.

But it was too late. Once Lewis's fingertips touched the surface of the device, his gaze seemed to glaze over and his attention was elsewhere.

"You activate it by touching it," Hathaway said wearily, though Lewis could no longer hear him.

He'd have to go into the story too. Immersives were heavily regulated and thus very safe, but Hathaway knew it could be disorientating emerging from one for the first time, and it would help if he knew what story Lewis had been experiencing.

Hathaway closed and locked their office door, and then moved his chair next to Lewis's.

"Ready or not," Hathaway said, "here I come."

And he touched the immersive.

~~~

Something went _thwump_ against the door and woke James from his customary evening doze. He exhaled slowly, pushing himself from his chair with some effort. The aching of his joints always seemed worse when a storm came. 

James moved to the door, wondering what could've made such a noise. The snow wouldn't have been so loud, but surely a person would've knocked more than once. 

Outside, a shivering man leaned against the doorframe, ill dressed for the weather.

"Please, sir," the man whispered, and there was exhaustion in his voice. "Please help me."

Although James's joints sometimes pained him, he was strong, and he draped the weary traveller's arm round his shoulders. "Can you walk?"

The man was so exhausted he barely understood the question. "I…."

James put his own arm round the man. "Come on. Just a few steps and you'll be by the fire."

"Fire," the man whispered, almost longingly, and when James looked at the man again, he could see the bright pink flush to his skin that meant the beginnings of frostbite. James hoped it hadn't progressed too far.

James helped the man sit on his sofa, and then went to take the kettle off. He always kept tea on, nights like this, and he added plenty of milk and sugar to give his visitor some strength.

Ignoring the ache in his knees, James sat beside the man on the sofa. "Can you hold a mug?"

The man barely had enough strength to turn his head, and his facial expression was a picture of embarrassment. "I'm sorry…"

"Nothing to be sorry about," James said. He held the mug so the man could drink from it, and slowly, the man swallowed every last drop of tea. "Better?"

"Yes," the man whispered, sounding and looking a bit stronger. "Thank you."

James nodded. "I'm James."

"Robbie," the other man answered.

Another sound at the door, and a knock this time. Robbie started and would have stood if he'd had the strength. Instead, he rested an unsteady hand on James's arm.

"Please don't let them in," Robbie whispered.

James had lived alone much of his life, but that had given him the chance to study people. Robbie might be dangerous, but only if he were a good actor, and a man on the edge of exhaustion, as Robbie was, was no actor at all. Robbie's face was too open, his eyes too expressive; everything he felt appeared on his face. And right now, he was terrified.

James helped Robbie lie down and covered him with a blanket. Whoever was at the door knocked again, impatiently.

"I'm coming!" James snapped. He turned back to Robbie. "I won't let them harm you. Do you trust me?"

Robbie hesitated, then nodded.

"Good," James said. "Then lie still. And if you feel the need to moan every once in a while, that would be helpful."

Robbie gave him a confused look but nodded again.

James opened the door to find two members of the King's Guard outside.

"Hello," James said cautiously. "What brings you out on a night such as this?"

"We have reason to believe one of the king's servants is seeking refuge in your house," the taller of the two guards said.

James frowned. "The capital city is five days' travel on foot! He could never come this far in a storm."

"How do you explain the footprints in the snow?" asked the smaller guard, who also seemed the more aggressive of the two.

"They belong to my scribe, Declan," James said. "He insisted on coming to work despite the fact that the fool is too ill to hold a pen."

As if on cue, Robbie let forth a moan from beneath the blankets. It was all James could do not to smile. Very convincing.

"It's the fever that took my wife, so many years ago," James said gravely. "But you may examine him if you wish."

Unsurprisingly, when faced with the threat of serious illness, the guards chose to take their leave. "But you will tell us if you see the man we're looking for?"

"Of course I will," James said. "Good evening." He closed and latched his door.

"I'm sorry," Robbie said, his voice muffled by the blankets.

James shrugged. "It's always the way. I have ten more stories that would have cooled their interest just as well."

"No, I meant about your wife."

James laughed. "I have no wife. Never have had. But the King's Guard can hardly be expected to know that." He sat in his chair, exhaling softly at the creak of his knees. "Are you who they were looking for?"

"Yes." Robbie's voice was very small.

James felt a shock of admiration. "You've come all the way from the capital in this storm?"

"I had to."

"Let me try to guess your crime. Did you steal something? Break the heart of someone at court? The king perhaps?"

"It isn't funny, James," Robbie whispered, and James felt instantly guilty when he noticed how the poor man was trembling.

"No, of course it isn't," James said more gently. "I'm sorry." He paused. "I think you need some rest. We'll talk again tomorrow. Try not to run away before then."

He fancied he heard a bit of humour in Robbie's voice as Robbie said, "I'll try."

***

James woke aching all over. He hadn't wanted to leave Robbie alone in the night, so he'd slept in his chair instead of in bed, and this, unfortunately, was what resulted. He grimaced as he stretched, glancing over at his guest.

Thankfully, Robbie's skin seemed to have faded to its normal colour--no lasting damage from being in the snow. James moved to the kitchen, where he could keep an eye on Robbie as he made them breakfast.

Robbie woke slowly as the eggs began to cook. "Where…?"

"Still in my house, Robbie," James called. "Are you hungry?"

Robbie nodded, wincing as he sat up. "Yes."

"Good," James said. "Can you read and write?"

Robbie frowned, apparently trying to work out how those two questions followed. "To get breakfast?"

James chuckled. "No. It's an unrelated question."

"Oh. Yes, I can."

"Good," James said. "At times I have trouble with my hands."

Robbie looked at him. "You're a bit young for that, aren't you?"

"Yes, but somehow it happens nonetheless," James said wryly.

Robbie's face flushed. "I'm sorry."

"The point is, I could use a scribe, if you think you could manage it," James said. "My official title is local historian. Practically speaking, this means I study the history of this area, and occasionally try to impart some knowledge to a few idiotic young people swotting up for exams."

Robbie was smiling now. Good.

"If I could dictate my work to you, it would spare my hands," James said. "I couldn't pay you much, but I could provide you with food and shelter as recompense." He paused. "Before you decide, you should know I've lived alone for years. I'm considered irascible and unfriendly by some townspeople…and those are the ones who like me."

Robbie snorted with laughter.

"But I'll try not to crowd you or to make you feel unwelcome," James said. "What do you think?"

"You haven't asked why I'm running," Robbie said cautiously. 

James shrugged. "You'll tell me when you're ready."

Robbie smiled. He hadn't said anything, but James could tell Robbie was going to accept from his facial expression alone. There was hope in it now, and there hadn't been before.

"I'd love to be your scribe," Robbie said.

"Good," James said. "Breakfast is ready."

As they were eating, Robbie said hesitantly, "Once you hear why I've run, maybe you'll want to send me away."

"I doubt it," James said. "Too bloodyminded, me."

Robbie looked down at his empty plate, then set it aside. "I was pledged to the king's service when I was small. But there's quite a bit of training involved in that. I arrived at the capital nearly a year ago. So excited." He shook his head. "So stupid."

James waited silently for more of the story, setting his own plate to one side.

"The king has magic," Robbie said. "And the people who serve him…" He shuddered. "He erases them. Replaces their wills with his own. And the worst bit is, people talk about it as though it's an honour. There's a ceremony for it and all."

James was chilled by the thought, and shook his head silently.

"You didn't know?" Robbie asked, eyes wide.

"I'm afraid news from the capital takes a long time to reach us, and isn't always the most accurate when it does," James said quietly. Hesitantly, he reached out to touch Robbie's hand. "No wonder you ran."

Without a word, Robbie flung his arms round James in a hug. After a moment's surprise, James lifted his arms and carefully embraced Robbie in turn. It had been a long time since he'd held anyone, but Robbie seemed comfortable with it, so James decided he would be as well.

"I'll do my best to keep you safe," James said, sure that both of them could hear the promise in his words.

***

It was, as James had foreseen, exasperating living with another person at first. Robbie had the irritating tendency to tidy anything within his reach, which led to several instances in which James couldn't find what he was looking for despite knowing exactly where he'd left it.

"I only did it to help you," Robbie protested.

"It doesn't help me when I can't find something!" James had snarled.

Robbie hadn't said anything, but he'd looked hurt. Whenever they argued, Robbie was always so upset by it that James found himself softening, and he did in this instance as well. After all, Robbie hadn't lost anything, had he?

"No harm done," James said quietly.

Robbie nodded. "Thank you."

And then, slowly, they began to be at ease with each other. Robbie taught James certain regional recipes he'd learnt in his training, and James taught Robbie, of all things, how to juggle. Robbie had a genuine sense of fun that awakened James's own.

The worst part of the week was when James had to go to town. Robbie couldn't come with him, for fear the guards might recognise him. Robbie pretended not to mind, but James knew he did mind, although Robbie's fear of being pressed back into service to the king was greater than his desire to be outside.

"I'll bring you something special from the market today," James promised.

"You don't have to," Robbie said.

"No. And yet I will anyway," James said, earning a smile from Robbie.

James knew just what to get. Robbie's birthday was coming, and it was common practise in town to give anyone celebrating a birthday a coin and a pear, in the hopes that the next year would provide plenty of money and food.

As James arrived home, he could see three men in front of his house. The two on the sides were holding the one in the centre, who was trying to get away.

It was Robbie.

Robbie was struggling hard as he could. "Please!" he shouted. "Please, help me!"

~~~

Hathaway jerked his hand away from the immersive as the first part of the story ended, his heart pounding at the vivid memory of Robbie…of Lewis calling for help.

Lewis let out a sharp cry, pulling back his hand as though he'd been singed. His gaze fell on Hathaway, and he looked round for the guards who'd had him by the arms. "James? Are we safe?"

Hathaway nodded. "We are."

Lewis tackled him in a tight hug, trembling, his panic almost tangible through their bond. Hathaway wrapped his arms around his friend, holding him tightly and filling his side of their bond with affection and reassurance.

"How did you rescue me?" Lewis whispered.

Hathaway had expected Lewis to take a while to realise the immersive hadn't been real, especially his first time. Hathaway hadn't owned any immersives as a child--too expensive--but Scarlett would let him borrow hers, and would sometimes experience them with him. The first one he'd ever used had been an adaptation of the book _National Velvet_ , and he'd been shocked to look in the mirror afterward and discover that he wasn't, in fact, a girl.

"Robbie," Hathaway said quietly. "Sir."

He could almost feel, through their bond, the moment Lewis's memories broke through.

"Oh," Lewis whispered, but he didn't let go of Hathaway. "But it was so real…"

"I know," Hathaway said. "I was there."

Lewis pulled back to look at him, hands still resting on Hathaway's arms, and his expression was Robbie's unguarded one rather than Lewis's usual giving-nothing-away gaze. "It was really you?"

Hathaway nodded. "I followed you in."

Lewis nodded. Hathaway could feel Lewis trying to convince himself to let go of Hathaway and failing.

"You don't have to let go," Hathaway whispered to him.

"Good, because I don't think I can," Lewis whispered back, resting his head on Hathaway's shoulder.

Hathaway hadn't felt so acutely protective of Lewis in a long while…but he wasn't sure Lewis had ever been so open and trusting with him before. It was…nice. He liked it. "Are you all right?"

Lewis showed him flashes of memory from the immersive. They had broken down the door. He'd hidden beneath the bed but they'd pulled him out. He'd fought to no avail.

Hathaway held him closer. "You're safe now."

Lewis might have been frightened, but his faith in Hathaway was absolute. He sighed and began to relax. "I need you. Don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere," Hathaway said.

Lewis didn't say anything in response, but his relief was palpable through the bond.

***

"Are they always like that?" Lewis asked as they left the nick, his hand resting discreetly on Hathaway's arm. "Immersives, I mean?"

Hathaway shook his head. "Only the first time. After that, it gets easier to come back to yourself."

Lewis nodded. "You didn't seem to have any trouble."

Hathaway shrugged. "It's all relative."

Hathaway had already agreed to drive Lewis home, as Lewis had admitted he wasn't entirely sure he was in any state to drive. They didn't talk much on the way to Lewis's flat, but when they left Hathaway's car, Lewis instinctively took Hathaway's hand.

"I'm sorry I keep touching you," Lewis whispered, face flushing with embarrassment. "I know it's intrusive." But he didn't feel safe without touch, without their bond.

"It's not intrusive," Hathaway said quietly. "And I want to help."

Lewis squeezed his hand. "You do."

They didn't talk much after that. They ate and slouched against each other on the sofa watching telly. As it neared ten, Lewis had relaxed so much that his head was resting against Hathaway's shoulder. 

"You took good care of me today," Lewis murmured, gratitude spiralling through the bond.

"Much as I'd like to claim credit for that, I'm not the one who wrote the immersive," Hathaway said.

"I don't mean that. Well, I do, but I mean after too."

"It was easy," Hathaway said.

"It was nice," Lewis said, glancing up at him. "Wouldn't mind if it happened again some time."

Hathaway didn't try to hide his surprise. "Really?"

"I…" Lewis fell silent, but Hathaway knew what Lewis was feeling. Just because he couldn't ask for care didn't mean he didn't need it.

After a moment, unsure what else to do, Hathaway leaned to the side and rested his head against Lewis's.

Lewis made a soft sound of contentment. "Goodnight, James."

Hathaway smiled slightly. "Goodnight."

After a moment, when Lewis began snuffling, Hathaway added, very quietly and only for himself, "Robbie."

***

When Lewis woke, he was still sitting next to Hathaway. Well. Leaning against Hathaway, more like…with his arms around him. His back ached, but it was manageable, and Lewis began an internal debate whether it would be more embarrassing to pull away or to stay where he was,

"Stay where you are," Hathaway said, his voice full of sleepy amusement. "I like hugs."

Lewis raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"Yes," Hathaway yawned. "And I don't often have the chance to indulge."

Lewis nodded. "Nor me."

Yesterday seemed oddly like a dream, though Lewis was hard-pressed to say whether the policing bit or the immersive bit seemed more real. In the immersive, he had been more vulnerable than he ever allowed himself to be in real life. Even after the immersive had ended, he'd felt in danger…unsafe. But Hathaway hadn't seemed to mind caring for him. And today…today Lewis felt a bit sorry he wasn't feeling more like Robbie. He would've liked to spend the day being Hathaway's scribe.

"I can make you a quill," Hathaway offered.

Lewis winced. He still forgot Hathaway could hear his thoughts through the bond sometimes. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Hathaway murmured. "I like working with you too." He opened one eye and gave Lewis a lazy smile. "Luckily we get to do that anyway."

Lewis smiled. "Though there's a bit less hugging involved."

"I'll talk to Innocent about that," Hathaway said, bone-dry.

Lewis chuckled, then sobered. "Thanks for letting me stay close yesterday. I know that must've been…difficult."

"A bit," Hathaway said. "But worth it."

Lewis could feel Hathaway's emotions connected with his statement; they were a bit slippery, but…Hathaway was surprised and pleased that touch was becoming easier, that he was growing more comfortable with their bond. Best not to mention that to James, though. Wouldn't want to embarrass him.

"Would you ever want to…I don't know what the phrase is. Use an immersive together? On purpose this time?" Lewis asked.

He could feel Hathaway's surprise. "I wouldn't mind. But I thought you might."

Lewis shook his head. "Not if I knew what I was getting into. Can we find some with descriptions on the box?"

Hathaway nodded. "The one we viewed yesterday was the first part of three. The description would've been on the back of the box that held them all."

"Did we find the other two with the victim's things?"

Hathaway paused. "No, we didn't, actually."

Lewis frowned, trying to think this through. "When we were using the immersive, what happened to our bodies? Did we just sit there?"

"Yes. I locked the door so no one could disturb us. It usually takes an hour or two per box."

"And if someone decided to disturb us while our minds were away?" Lewis asked.

"The boxes are charmed to stop working immediately if anyone else enters the room where the user or users are."

"No one could come in and cosh us from behind?"

A slight burst of amusement from Hathaway. "No. Have you been coshed lately, sir?"

Lewis was busy thinking. "It wasn't during, then. It was after."

"Sorry?"

"I touched it first and was put in the role of someone frightened and helpless. What if the first part was the only part left with the victim on purpose? The killer knew the end of the scene would leave the user helpless."

"Which presented an opportunity," Hathaway said grimly.

Lewis nodded. "What do you think?"

 _I think you're brilliant,_ Lewis heard Hathaway think through the bond. "I think we should let Innocent know about this as soon as possible."

Lewis nodded. "If you like, I'll make us breakfast, and then we can go in."

"I have to go home and change my clothes," Hathaway said.

"I can have the food ready by the time you get back."

Hathaway smiled, warmth moving through the bond. Lewis thought it almost seemed strange to imagine his life without the bond now.

"Thanks. I'd like that," Hathaway said. "And I'll bring my immersives with me."

Lewis raised his eyebrows. "You've got some?"

"Just a few," Hathaway said. "But they might be of interest to you."

Lewis nodded. "I'll have a look."

***

Hathaway brought all five of his immersives back to Lewis's flat.

"They're wrapped," he said with a grin, placing them on the table. "Best not to unwrap them unless you want me following you in again."

Lewis grimaced. "Thanks. I've had enough of that." He brought two bowls of oatmeal to the table. "I wanted to ask you about something. Why did we have our own names in the immersive?"

"Ah," James said. "It's a shortcut. It takes less energy from the charmcaster if people using the immersive can fill in the gaps. That's why we looked like ourselves and used our own names."

Lewis nodded, seemingly digesting this information. "What are your immersives about?"

Hathaway cleared his throat. "Well. Intergalactic Voyage is a space adventure. You're on a Star Trek-type ship. Ancient Civilisations is more of a travelogue really--you travel to different historical landmarks and cultures and see things and people lost to the ages. Holiday is relatively self-explanatory; it's a relaxing series of travels all around the world. Superhero Team is also as it sounds." He was blushing now.

Lewis looked intrigued. "You get to be a superhero?"

"You get to fly," Hathaway said, unable to curtail his enthusiasm. "And you get to help save the city."

Lewis nodded. "What's the last?"

Of course he'd ask that. "Pride and Prejudice is, well…Pride and Prejudice."

Lewis raised his eyebrows. "Who are you in that?"

"Oh, someone different every time," Hathaway said quickly…not, he hoped, too quickly. "It's fascinating to see the story from different points of view."

Lewis nodded. "I'll take your word for it." He looked at the boxes. "Give me a while to think about it, yeah? Or maybe we can talk about it after work."

Hathaway nodded. "I'd be glad to." 

He hadn't failed to notice the implicit invitation in Lewis's comment, and he was grateful for it. He was grateful for any time he could spend with Lewis, really. He'd been uncomfortable with their bond at first, but it was beginning to feel normal now. And waking up with Lewis touching him, their bond fully open, nothing but trust and affection between them…that had felt amazing. Not that he would ever say anything to Lewis about it, but Hathaway had the feeling that Lewis might already feel the same way. And if that was true, they were both very, very lucky.

"If you like," Lewis said, "we could do the second and third part of whatever that immersive was we began yesterday. I'm a bit curious what happens to me."

Hathaway had known Lewis long enough to know that 'if you want' was code for 'I'd like to.'

"I rescue you," Hathaway said lightly. "Of course."

Lewis smiled. "Of course."

Hathaway held out his hand to Lewis, and Lewis took it, their bond strengthening as they touched, full of comfort and care.

"I'll pop down the shops today and see if I can't find parts two and three," Hathaway said.

Lewis nodded. "If you can…part two tonight?"

"I'd like that," Hathaway said, "but I should warn you, it might end on a cliffhanger again."

Lewis's hand tightened around his. "Long as you're here, I don't mind that."

Lewis was asking to be comforted again, Hathaway realised. This was the only way he could think of to ask for it. Hathaway's suspicion was confirmed by a slight undercurrent of hope and embarrassment from Lewis, who'd apparently caught Hathaway's thoughts through the bond.

"Is that all right?" Lewis asked, voice quiet.

This time, Hathaway's hand tightened around Lewis's.

"Of course," Hathaway said.


	17. Nightmare

Hathaway was poring over witness statements when Lewis arrived at work, lacking his usual energy. Hathaway looked up from his work to watch as Lewis walked slowly to his chair and nearly collapsed into it.

"If you're ill, you should go home," Hathaway said.

"I'm all right," Lewis murmured. "Think I'm coming down with flu. Not too bad yet."

Hathaway froze. "Sir…you must be aware of the illness policy here, surely."

Lewis frowned at him. "I am, and I don't understand why it's so bloody stringent. I've worked like this before, and I've always been fine."

"Yes, but…" Hathaway took a deep breath. "Sir, there's a reason flu is known as 'Nightmare Flu' round here."

Lewis raised his eyebrows. "What's that, then?"

"Illnesses like flu turn your magic against you. You won't experience flu in the same way as people unaware of their magic will," Hathaway said.

Lewis looked alarmed. "Why? What happens?"

"While you're running a fever, you'll be convinced that the thing you fear most has come true," Hathaway said. "There's no coughing or sneezing for people with magic. It's fever and nightmares."

It took a lot to perturb Lewis, but Lewis did look slightly perturbed. "You've had this…nightmare flu?"

Hathaway nodded. "A few times. It's as bad as you'd think." 

Lewis hesitated, glancing at the door. "I should…go home, then."

Hathaway turned his attention back to his work. "As you say, sir."

Lewis gave him a wry look that suggested Hathaway should probably own up to his opinion when he'd been trumpeting it up to now. "Is it…it's not dangerous, is it?"

Hathaway was stuck between telling him no and telling him the truth.

"Bloody hell," Lewis muttered. "Am I going to jump out of the window?"

"Probably not," Hathaway said.

"Well, I can't ask you to stay and look after me. You might catch it," Lewis said.

"Of course I will," Hathaway said.

"Of course you'll catch it?" Lewis looked startled.

Ah. Unclear antecedents. "Of course I'll stay with you," Hathaway clarified. "If you want."

Lewis looked grateful not to have to ask. "D'you mind?"

Hathaway shook his head. "Not at all." He stood, putting away his things.

***

Hathaway had taken up residence in Lewis's lovely comfy armchair, which he'd dragged into the bedroom while Lewis dozed in bed. So far, nothing much had happened, but Hathaway knew the worst part of the flu would be kicking in at any moment now, and he kept a watchful eye.

"James." 

Lewis's voice was barely a whisper, and Hathaway looked up from his book to see that Lewis was awash in sweat, eyes vaguely focussed on him. The peak of the fever had come at last, and Hathaway waited to find out exactly what Lewis's worst nightmare was.

"I failed you," Lewis said, working hard to get himself into a seated position. "I'm sorry."

Hathaway frowned, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "I don't understand."

"I wasn't there when Morse died, was I? And I wasn't there when Val…" Lewis's voice broke, and he shook his head. "And I wasn't there for you. When you needed me."

Hathaway felt understanding dawn. "I was killed?"

Lewis looked at him, aghast. "You don't remember?"

Hathaway shook his head.

Lewis sighed. "Then you've been spared that, at least." He lowered his head for what seemed like hours, looking as though he were going to crumple and shrivel to nothing. Then he lifted his head again. "I didn't believe it. Even at the funeral. I thought, he's just been charmed unconscious. He'll wake up. And I took your hand…" His hand curled in his lap, and he rocked a little, clearly tormented by the memory, false though it was.

"Sir," Hathaway whispered. He wanted to end this, to comfort Lewis, but he didn't know how to go about it or if it were even possible.

"You were always there before," Lewis whispered, his voice raw. "When I touched you. You were there in my mind, like a heartbeat. And this time, I touched you and I was alone. And I knew." He nodded to himself, looking blankly at his hands in his lap as though he didn't understand how they got there. "I knew."

Hathaway nodded. "That's what it felt like to me when you'd turned to stone."

Lewis looked at him, startled. "Did it? I'm so…" He choked on the words, or maybe on the thought behind them. "I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," Hathaway said. "You came back."

"I wish you could come back," Lewis whispered. "Sometimes I think…" But his voice faltered, and he shook his head.

"What?" Hathaway asked.

"Sometimes I think some charmcaster's decided to make me live forever. Everyone I love will go, but not me. I'll just go on and on." Lewis fixed his eyes on Hathaway, and Hathaway ached at the unutterable sadness in Lewis's eyes. 

Hathaway couldn't bear it any longer. He reached out and took Lewis's hand.

Lewis's eyes widened as their bond opened, and Hathaway could feel the torrent of emotion within him. Grief. Anguish. Loss. More recently, shock and surprise. Hathaway could feel Lewis decide that this must not be a haunting; this must be a dream, if they could touch and their bond was intact.

Without a word, Lewis pressed the palm of Hathaway's hand to Lewis's cheek, closing his eyes to drink in the touch. He'd missed this, Hathaway heard Lewis think. He'd missed him. Lewis's mouth wobbled as though he were going to cry, but he didn't.

"I want you to know something," Lewis whispered, taking Hathaway's hand in his hands. "People I love…I carry them with me. Always." So, Lewis's thoughts continued, James would always be right beside him, and Lewis would always feel his absence.

"I'm honoured," Hathaway whispered. _People I love._ He was one of those people.

Hathaway could feel that Lewis was struggling to hold himself together…but in his nightmare world, Lewis felt he was always struggling to hold himself together. Losing James, he'd lost his balance.

Lewis looked at James. "I don't understand how you can be gone."

Hathaway tried to fill his side of the bond with comfort and warmth and reassurance. "I'm here now."

Lewis nodded. "Will you stay until I wake up?"

"Of course I will," Hathaway said quietly.

Lewis seemed to consider something for a long moment. "Will you let me hold you?"

Hathaway nodded, moving closer to Lewis. "Yes."

Lewis was ill and feverish, but he held Hathaway with all the strength he had, one hand moving to cup the back of Hathaway's head. The intimacy of the gesture took Hathaway's breath away…as did the flood of emotions coming from Lewis. Affection, yes…and friendship…and something deeper, something stronger. 

Love. The word for it was love. And Hathaway silently responded in kind through their bond.

Despair passed through the bond from Lewis…and sorrow as well. _Too late now. All too late._ Lewis leaned heavily against Hathaway as if he didn't have any strength left. "Oh, James."

Hathaway gently guided Lewis into a prone position, resting beside him. "You should get some sleep, sir."

"No," Lewis protested, but he genuinely had reached the end of his energy, and it showed. "No, I can't…you'll go…"

"I won't," Hathaway said softly. "I'll be right here."

Lewis nestled against Hathaway, pulling him closer. "You have to promise."

"I promise," Hathaway said. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Lewis let out a tired little sigh. Tentatively, Hathaway reached out and embraced Lewis in turn.

And somehow, both of them managed to find sleep.

***

"James?" Someone was poking him in the arm. "Are you real?"

That wasn't Hathaway's usual wake-up call, and he opened his eyes, blinking at Lewis. "What?"

"Are you real?" Lewis repeated, voice unsteady. "Only…I thought…you were dead, and…"

"I'm not dead," Hathaway said, touching Lewis's forehead with a cool hand. His fever had broken. "That was your nightmare."

Lewis shuddered. "You weren't joking."

"I never would," Hathaway said. "Not about that." He paused. "Are you all right?"

Lewis admitted, through their bond, that he was feeling a bit weak and a bit flattened by fatigue, but that he was otherwise all right. "You?"

"Fine," Hathaway said. "I'm not ill very often."

"And you're not upset?"

Hathaway frowned. "About?"

Lewis's embarrassment was easy to feel through the bond. He knew how out of control he'd been, and it bothered him.

Hathaway shook his head. "Don't worry. You were ill."

"I…" Lewis swallowed hard. "I was ill but I wasn't lying."

Hathaway gave him a questioning look.

Lewis responded with a very timid _i love you_.

"Oh, is that all?" Hathaway said.

Lewis looked indignant. "Is that all? D'you know how long it takes me to work up to something like that?"

"Probably as long as it takes me to admit that I'm of a similar disposition," Hathaway said.

"You…what?"

 _I love you too,_ Hathaway responded.

Lewis didn't seem to know what to do next. "Oh."

"Oh, indeed," Hathaway said with a slight smile.

"Well…if you…and I…" Lewis seemed to be doing some mental algebraic calculations. "That's all right, then." Hesitantly, carefully, he snuggled against Hathaway. "Only…I did want to check."

Hathaway wrapped his arms around Lewis and held him close. "Thank you for checking."

Lewis let out a soft, happy laugh that made Hathaway feel warm all over. Or maybe that was a remnant of Lewis's fever.

"What's that?" Lewis murmured.

"What?" Hathaway asked.

"The bond. Makes me feel a bit…" Lewis paused. "James, are you happy?"

Hathaway didn't have many occasions in which he felt compelled to ponder that question. But…yes. If he was being completely honest… "I am."

Lewis smiled. "Never felt you happy before. It's nice."

Hathaway had to agree.


	18. Sleepless

Two in the morning, and Lewis couldn't sleep. He'd been awake in the dark with his eyes closed for almost an hour, and had stared at the ceiling for half an hour after that. Finally, he gave up, rolling over with a sigh and leaving bed.

Nights like this made him the most keenly aware of being alone. When he'd been married, he'd been able to curl up next to Val and share her warmth, and that had often been enough to get him back to sleep. Val was gone, though, and there was no one to comfort him in the night now.

As Lewis padded into the kitchen to make tea, he found himself wishing Hathaway were here. He'd never risk waking him by phoning, of course, but Hathaway always knew what to say, and he knew when not to say anything. Lewis put the kettle on, wondering if Hathaway was awake right now.

"You wanted me?"

Lewis spun round to find Hathaway standing in his living room, wearing pyjama bottoms and a T-shirt.

"Didn't hear you come in," Lewis said.

"No, you wouldn't have. I'm not really here." Hathaway perched on the arm of the sofa.

Lewis frowned. "I don't understand."

"I'm asleep at home," Hathaway said. "But I felt you call me through the bond, so I'm here. Or…part of me is, anyway. Think of me as a mental echo."

"Have I ever done that for you?" Lewis asked.

"You'd remember if you had," Hathaway said. "But you could."

"It won't hurt you?" Lewis asked. "To be here?"

Hathaway smiled. "No." He gestured to the kettle. "Go on. Make your tea."

"Do you want any?" Lewis asked.

"Can't drink it," Hathaway said. "Not really here."

"Ah," Lewis said.

When Lewis settled on the sofa with his tea, Hathaway sat next to him. "So? What's going on?"

Lewis poked Hathaway's hand; it felt solid enough, but there was no warmth to it. He gave Hathaway a sheepish look. "Sorry."

Hathaway laughed. "It's fine. I've never done this before either. I knew it could happen, but it's not the same…knowing it exists and having it happen."

It was amazing that Hathaway could do this, now Lewis thought about it. "And I brought you here?"

"You needed me," Hathaway said quietly. "That's what a bond is."

Lewis rested a hand on Hathaway's arm. He could feel their bond still, but it had a faraway quality, as though it were an echo of the real thing. Which he supposed it was.

"Sometimes," he said, voice gruff to cover the sentiment, "I think it's always me needing you. I hope it isn't, but I worry sometimes."

Hathaway's hand, solid and cool, slipped firmly around his. "You shouldn't worry about that. Bonds are always reciprocal."

"I ever tell you I'm glad we bonded?" Lewis asked.

"I've felt it from you," Hathaway said, "but I don't think you've said it aloud."

Lewis nodded. "I've known people who were solitary. But I'm not. Never have been."

Hathaway smiled. "You're an easy friend to have."

"Thanks," Lewis said. "So are you."

Hathaway scoffed. "I'm not. I'm…secretive, moody, glib, uncommunicative…"

"Loyal," Lewis added. "Thoughtful. Clever. Insightful."

Hathaway smiled shyly. "You're good at that. You see the best in everyone, and I don't want to disappoint you."

Lewis was sure he'd heard wrong. "You mean they don't want to disappoint me."

"No. Everyone is a singular noun; it can only refer to another singular noun, pronoun, or article. 'Everyone ate their lunch' is wrong; it has to be 'everyone ate his lunch' to be correct."

Lewis wondered if the grammar lesson was meant to be a distraction. "You will disappoint me, you know. And I'll disappoint you."

Hathaway seemed to shrink with anxiety. "Thank you."

"I don't mean it that way. When you know someone long enough, when you're with them enough, there'll be disappointments. That doesn't outweigh the good things about them. It doesn't mean you give them up."

"I don't give people up," Hathaway said. "Once they get close enough to me to matter…I don't know how to let them go."

"No," Lewis said. Letting go had always been his problem too.

Hathaway bent down to rest his head against Lewis's shoulder, a gesture so gentle and intimate that, for a moment, Lewis didn't know how to answer it. He leaned his own cheek against Hathaway's head, looping one arm around him.

They could be happy together without saying a word. For a while, they simply sat in silence, Lewis brushing his hand gently over Hathaway's hair.

"Thank you for being here," Lewis said.

Hathaway exhaled a laugh. "You say it as though I were doing you a favour."

"You are."

Hathaway shook his head. "I like this as much as you do. I'd do it in person if you asked me."

Lewis kept his voice light, but he suddenly felt a bit nervous. "I'll have to ask you then, won't I?"

Hathaway's voice was quiet, and also a bit nervous. "I wish you would."

"Will you remember this tomorrow?"

Hathaway looked up at him. "Every word."

Lewis nodded. "Good. Wouldn't want you to forget something like this."

Hathaway turned toward Lewis, reaching out to wrap his arms around Lewis's torso. "I wouldn't want to forget."

Lewis would've found it almost impossible to put into words how deeply it affected him to have Hathaway nestle against him so easily--Hathaway, who had initially been terrified of their bond, terrified to trust anyone because of his past experiences. Somehow (he didn't know exactly how) Lewis had managed to prove himself trustworthy enough for Hathaway to be vulnerable with him…to show he needed him. Hathaway had decided to let Lewis in, and Lewis knew what a serious decision that was. He felt honoured that Hathaway had chosen him. Proud. And lucky most of all.

"May I ask you something?" Hathaway asked.

Lewis nodded. "Of course."

Hathaway's voice dropped to a near whisper. "When we're alone like this and not at work…could I call you Robbie?"

Lewis felt an almost helpless wave of affection for the lad. "I'd like that. I've called you James for ages; it's only right."

Hathaway smiled, closing his eyes. "Thank you, Robbie."

Lewis reached over, embracing James in turn as he tried to keep his voice steady. "Thank _you_ , James."


	19. Heartstone

Lewis didn't like celebrating his birthday, but Hathaway always made sure to tactfully invite Lewis for a pint on the pertinent day. Hathaway also always made sure to feign innocence if Lewis asked him if this had anything to do with his birthday. _Oh, is it your birthday, sir? That's odd. I thought it was in January._

This year, Hathaway invited Lewis to his flat for dinner and an immersive. Hathaway had found a recipe for pad thai that he'd practised a few times before Lewis's birthday; he wanted everything to be right on the day in question.

After dinner, they sprawled on the sofa beside each other. 

"You spoil me, James," Lewis said, a drowsy sense of contentment crossing their bond as their arms touched. "Think I ate half me weight in pad thai."

"It's all part of my diabolical plan," Hathaway said.

Lewis laughed. "What's that? Getting me dependent on your cooking so I won't eat anywhere else?"

"You've found me out," Hathaway said with a grin. Although he wouldn't mind if Lewis came for dinner more often.

"That an invitation?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway had almost got used to Lewis hearing his stray thoughts. "If you want it to be."

"Don't want to impose."

Hathaway shook his head. "Not an imposition. Most nights I cook anyway. As easy to do it for two as for one."

"You should pick a night or two," Lewis said. "I'll come every week, long as we're not working."

"Yeah, sounds good," Hathaway said. He fished in his pocket. "I've got something for you."

"You didn't need to do that," Lewis said.

"Open it." Hathaway handed Lewis a small box.

Lewis did, and then he looked at the box with some confusion. He glanced at Hathaway, looking uncertain whether he'd missed something of significance. "Looks like a rock."

"It is," Hathaway said. "Take it out of the box."

Lewis removed the rock, holding it in the palm of his hand.

"Right," Hathaway said. "Now watch this." He rested his fingers lightly against the top of the dark green stone, and it seemed to light from within with a vivid green glow.

"How'd you do that?" Lewis asked.

"I didn't," Hathaway said. "We did."

Recognition came into Lewis's eyes. "I know what this is. I've read about it." He paused, then asked, "Heartstone?"

Hathaway nodded. 

"The book said it lights up when…" _When two people touch it who love each other._

"It does," Hathaway said. "I know we've already said it, but I know sometimes you and I do better without talking. So if you need to know it at some particular moment but you don't want to ask, take out the stone and I'll…" He tapped his fingers against the stone, making the light flare. _So you'll never have to wonder._

Lewis was trying to keep his composure, but Hathaway could tell he was pleased and a bit overwhelmed. "It says in my book couples hold these at magic weddings while they're making their vows."

Hathaway nodded. "Sometimes they do."

"Thank you for this." 

Hathaway could feel the depth and breadth of Lewis's gratitude, and he cleared his throat, thinking Lewis might be more comfortable with a change of topic. "I did bring an immersive."

"Can we not do that?" Lewis asked.

"Sure," Hathaway said. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine." Lewis paused. "I just don't want to be anyone else tonight. I'd rather be me and you, here like this."

Hathaway smiled. "I'd like that."

Lewis returned the smile, looking at the heartstone, which still glowed between their hands. "Think I might have to take this everywhere with me. Just as I do with you."

"Yes, but only one of us can carry on an intelligent conversation," Hathaway said.

"Well, I'm sure you and the heartstone will be very happy together," Lewis said.

Hathaway laughed, leaning sideways so he was resting against Lewis.

Closer was better. Hathaway was learning that now.


	20. Consolation

_Hathaway woke slowly to unfamiliar surroundings. He blinked in confusion at the white walls, trying to work out his location. Was this one of the holding cells for magic users? He seemed to remember having questioned a suspect in here once. He whispered a charm to produce light above his hand, and nothing happened. Yes, this was definitely a holding cell; they were charmed so people inside them couldn't call upon their own magic._

_A chill travelled along Hathaway's spine. What was he doing here?_

_The small window in the cell door opened, showing Innocent outside. "James."_

_"Ma'am?" He tried to sit up, but he was too weak to manage it, and lay back down on the bed in the cell. What could he have done to feel so spent?_

_"Do you know why you're here?" she asked._

_Oh, no. No, no. He'd done something, or…something had happened. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't."_

_"Ah," Innocent said. "There was a threat, and…you lost control in a rather spectacular way."_

_"Did I hurt someone?" Hathaway asked._

_Innocent remained silent, which meant yes. Oh, shit._

_Hathaway swallowed hard, asking the question he feared the answer to most. "Ma'am…where's Inspector Lewis?"_

_She opened her mouth, looking grim, then shook her head and closed it again._

_Hathaway thought he might be sick. "Is he dead?" Though what he meant was, did I kill him?_

_"We don't know yet if he'll pull through," Innocent said._

_"He's in hospital?"_

_Innocent wet her lips. "What you did…it was catastrophic, James."_

_Hathaway turned away from her, face to the wall, curling his knees to his chest. He'd hurt Lewis, possibly past repair. His bondmate was fighting for his life in hospital. How had this happened? How could he have let this happen?_

"James." The voice was soft, and it accompanied a touch on his shoulder.

Hathaway woke with a start, blinking into the dark. It wouldn't be dark in the nick, would it? Even at night, he was sure it wouldn't. No, this was…this was his flat, the bedroom in his own flat. He shuddered.

"James?" Lewis's voice was more uncertain now as his hand hesitantly rubbed Hathaway's shoulder. "I've…never felt you so afraid. Are you all right?"

Hathaway rolled over in bed, and the relief he felt when he found himself looking into Lewis's eyes couldn't be measured. He pulled Lewis into a tight hug, wondering how Lewis could possibly have come so quickly. Probably he wasn't here…probably he was asleep at home, and had sent a bit of himself through the bond.

"I'm not asleep," Lewis said gently. "I was awake, sitting on the couch. But I felt you call me…" His arms tightened round Hathaway. "Was it a bad dream?"

Hathaway nodded, fear still coursing through him. "I lost control. Hurt you."

"Only in the dream," Lewis said. "I'm all right. I'm here."

"I am dangerous, though," Hathaway whispered.

"You're not," Lewis protested. "You lost control once, and you did it to protect me, not to hurt me."

"But what if it isn't like that next time?" Hathaway asked. "Losing control means I can't stop myself." In the dream, Lewis had been near death because of Hathaway. It wasn't a fear he could shrug off easily, or at all.

"Yeah," Lewis said, "and the thought of it upset you so much I got catapulted all the way from my flat to yours."

Absurdly, Hathaway found himself fighting off tears. "I'm sorry."

"No, I didn't…" Lewis's arms tightened round him. "I want to be here. My point is…"

But Hathaway could already feel the point Lewis was making; if Hathaway was so badly frightened by the thought, he'd be less likely to make something like that happen. "I know. Thank you."

Lewis reached up to cradle the back of Hathaway's head with one hand, and the intimate touch relaxed Hathaway.

"No more talking for a bit, eh?" Lewis said. 

Hathaway could feel Lewis's frustration at words never being enough, never being right to express what he felt. He wanted to help Hathaway, but words didn't work. Hathaway silently replied that Lewis did help him, was helping him, and was rewarded with a surge of affection from Lewis. Hathaway held tight to their bond, needing it to reassure himself that Lewis was all right, that he hadn't hurt him.

"Listen," Lewis said, "I'm already awake. Why don't I come over here properly?"

Hathaway shook his head, pressing closer. Lewis would have to vanish for that to happen, and Hathaway didn't want to be alone just now.

Lewis nodded, comforting warmth issuing from him. "All right, James."

Wait a moment. Warmth.

Hathaway lifted his head and met Lewis's eyes. "You're warm."

Lewis frowned, trying to see the sense in that comment. "Thank you?"

"When I came to you in your flat, I was cold. You noticed it." Hathaway rested a hand on Lewis's chest to confirm his theory. "But you're warm. And our bond is the same as it always is." He shook his head. "You're not an echo. You're actually here."

"But…I can't be! I didn't say any charms or anything," Lewis said.

"I didn't know this could happen," Hathaway whispered. "I've never heard of anything like this. Being able to call your bondmate to you in person…"

"Your what?" Lewis asked.

"Oh." Hathaway blushed. "Bondmate. It's…it's the official term for two people who share a bond. Like us. I don't know if you…"

"No, I like it," Lewis said slowly. "Bondmate." He shook his head. "Must've been one hell of a call tonight, James, to bring me here."

"Must've been," Hathaway said. "I'm glad you could be here."

Something touched his forehead. It took Hathaway a moment to realise the touch was the brush of lips.

Very, very softly, Lewis whispered, "I wouldn't leave you hurting, James. Not for anything."

Hathaway closed his eyes, nestling against Lewis. "Stay?"

"Course," Lewis whispered. Then, with a glimmer of humour, he added, "After all, if I tried to transport back, I might turn myself blue."

Hathaway laughed. "That would be an interesting look for you."

"We'll never know, will we?" Lewis asked wryly. This time, the kiss he left on Hathaway's forehead was slightly more confident. "Get some sleep."

Hathaway hummed in answer; he was probably halfway there already. "What about you?"

Again, that soft, soft tone to Lewis's voice. "I think…I might get some sleep as well." Hathaway could feel muted sadness there…something about Val…but also muted joy and wonder. Something to do with having this chance again. Hathaway knew he'd understand it better if he weren't so tired.

"Sweet dreams, Robbie," he murmured.

Lewis's voice was soft and reassuring, and made it safe to sleep. "The same to you, love."


	21. Assigned

Lewis and Hathaway were walking into the nick when Innocent passed. She stopped, turned, stared at them for what felt like a full minute at least, and then said, "My office. Now. Both of you."

Once they were inside her office, Innocent gave them an exasperated look. "Did you intend to tell me you'd formed a bond?"

Lewis felt his face grow hot and was grateful he wasn't more prone to blushing. "We weren't hiding it from you, ma'am."

"No, well, you couldn't possibly hide it, could you? It's like a bloody beacon!" Innocent said.

Lewis wondered, now she'd said that, whether people who couldn't see magic were able to detect the bond between Hathaway and him in another way.

"As it hasn't affected our ability to work, ma'am, we thought it was irrelevant," Hathaway said in his blandest, most neutral tone.

"It hasn't affected your ability to work yet," Innocent said tightly. "But what happens when one of you is shot and the other one is incapacitated because he feels it?"

"I don't…that can't happen," Lewis stammered. "Can it?"

Innocent gave him a mildly pitying look. "It can and it has. And I'm sorry, but I'm not willing to take that risk with two of my officers."

"What are you going to do?" Hathaway asked, and it was only Lewis's magic that let him hear the worry in Hathaway's voice.

Innocent sighed. "I have no choice. I'll have to assign you two to paperwork indefinitely."

"Ma'am," Hathaway said, and Lewis could hear that he disliked the idea as much as Lewis did, "surely there's something else we can do round the nick. Questioning suspects or…"

"I might be more inclined to let you question suspects if you hadn't smashed one of them into a wall," Innocent said.

Hathaway flinched at the reminder of his loss of control, and Lewis leapt to his defence. "He did that to protect me, ma'am."

"And I'm glad he protected you, but that doesn't change the fact that the interview room was unusable for weeks while repairs were made," Innocent said. "I understand that you're disappointed, and I'm sorry to remove you from direct investigation, but my job at this point is to ensure, as much as possible, the safety of the officers working under me, and now you've bonded, this is the only way I know how to do that."

No questioning, no investigation…just filing papers in a cupboard. Lewis wanted desperately to reach out for Hathaway's hand, to allow their bond to comfort him, but he didn't dare in front of Innocent.

"You'll still be able to work together, of course. I won't have you getting bondsick on my watch." Innocent looked at each of them in turn, then nodded. "All right. I'll see that you're provided with work."

"Thank you, ma'am," Lewis mumbled, or Hathaway mumbled, or maybe they both mumbled it.

Once they were back in their office, Hathaway asked, "Are you all right?"

"Fine." It was a lie, and Lewis knew Hathaway would know it was a lie. All that work, all that time put in, all that learning about magic for the job, and for what? For nothing. For a chance to push papers and be put out to grass.

"D'you fancy a pint after work?" Hathaway asked.

"I just want to go home," Lewis said. His own voice sounded toneless and emotionless to his own ears.

Hathaway nodded, but Lewis could hear the hurt in his voice, though no one else would have been able to. "Oh."

"I want you to come with me," Lewis said, looking over at him.

A faint smile touched Hathaway's lips, and Lewis could see the unspoken question--you do?--in his eyes.

"At least she hasn't separated us," Lewis said. 

"Well, she can't," Hathaway said. "You heard what she said about bondsickness."

"I heard it, but I haven't heard of that before," Lewis said.

"It's rare. But when bondmates are separated, most often for a lengthy period of time and across great distances, they can become seriously ill from the separation," Hathaway said quietly.

"You mean…if you were assigned a different inspector…the separation might kill us?" Lewis asked.

"Probably not," Hathaway said. "Hardly anyone dies from bondsickness these days. But the possibility of us becoming ill is there, and Innocent wouldn't want to chance it."

"No, I suppose not," Lewis said slowly, standing. 

Hathaway looked flushed and uncomfortable. "You're unhappy. I'm sorry."

"I'm not unhappy, lad," Lewis said. "I'm just…it never occurred to me that being away from you could…could hurt us." He crossed to Hathaway and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe because I don't want to be away from you much."

The contact of the bond was a relief to both of them, and Lewis could feel Hathaway relax as surely as he could feel himself relax.

"Nor me," Hathaway said quietly, and Lewis could feel the depth of the emotions Hathaway wasn't expressing verbally.

Lewis squeezed Hathaway's shoulder comfortingly. _We'll be able to talk more at home, James._

Hathaway nodded in agreement. "So," he said, "paperwork."

Lewis pulled a wry face. "Paperwork."

***

At Lewis's flat, they sat in silence a while, holding hands.

Hathaway spoke first. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," Lewis said.

"No, I mean…" Hathaway paused. "I'm not a career police officer. Never felt like one. But I know you are."

"I could be of some value there," Lewis said.

Hathaway's hand tightened on Lewis's. "You're of value anywhere."

Lewis gave Hathaway a sheepish look. "Didn't say it so you'd pity me. Only it took me so long to get to the point where I was investigating cases on my own…and that was my choice, that's fine, but I've done so much paperwork in my life…" He shook his head.

Hathaway's voice was very quiet when he spoke again. "Are you sorry this happened between us?"

"No, never!" Lewis said adamantly. _You must know you're more important to me than any job._

 _I do now,_ Hathaway replied silently. And Lewis could feel that he was important to Hathaway as well.

It felt right for Lewis to be more focussed on Hathaway than on his work. That was how he'd been before…more focussed on his family than his work, to the extent that he could manage it. Then his family had gone, with Val's death and his children scattering to the wind, so he'd refocussed on his work as the centre point of his life. But with Hathaway and their bond, Lewis thought that, perhaps without realising it, he'd begun to refocus his life on Hathaway again and away from his work a bit. And now, he saw nothing to keep that process from continuing.

A pulse of awe from Hathaway's mind interrupted Lewis's thoughts, but it was too rapid a feeling for Lewis to understand.

"What was that for?" Lewis asked, glancing at Hathaway.

Hathaway blushed, looking away. "How you see me."

Lewis waited for more, but Hathaway didn't say any more. "How I see you?"

_So important._

Lewis let go Hathaway's hand so he could give him a hug instead. "Bugger anyone who ever told you you weren't important, James."

Hathaway exhaled quietly. _Can I tell you a secret?_

Lewis nodded.

It was the same as when he'd seen the memories of Scarlett Mortmaigne that time Hathaway had been scrying in his mirror. This time, James was a young boy, lying in bed. He'd just awakened from a nightmare and was crying, calling for his mum and dad to comfort him. But no one came. Lewis wondered how any parent could hear their little boy calling and not come running quick as they could.

When no one came, James quieted and became thoughtful. And what went through his mind--Lewis could feel that, because Hathaway was showing him--was that he would have to get used to being on his own. That he would have to accept it. It wasn't like the books he read, where children were part of loving families who looked after them and cared for them. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Maybe he was unlovable. Certainly there were times his dad didn't like him much.

He would learn how to manage on his own. Because he would have to.

With a jolt, they were back in Lewis's flat again, and Lewis fought to make sense of what Hathaway had shown him. Hathaway had decided…had thought he was going to be alone all his life? Even as a little boy? And he'd thought it was his fault? Lewis's heart ached for his bondmate, and he wrapped his arms more tightly around Hathaway, pulling him close and filling his side of the bond with love and warmth.

Hathaway drank it all in, fragmented thoughts and emotions running through his mind. _Yes, please, love me, stay with me, please._

 _You'll never be on your own like that, not long as I'm here,_ Lewis told him.

Hathaway clung to Lewis more tightly, full of gratitude. Lewis knew Hathaway had never had a bond with anyone before Lewis, but it wasn't just the bond. Hathaway felt--knew--Lewis valued him for who he was…not just because he was clever or because he was a talented charmcaster or a good detective or because he could do something for Lewis, but because Lewis liked him as a person. Lewis hadn't used Hathaway as Scarlett had, and he wasn't afraid of Hathaway as Steven and his classmates and perhaps even his parents had been.

"Was it always that bad with your parents?" Lewis asked quietly.

"I remember the first time I touched my father and saw what he was thinking," Hathaway said. "He was worried about money. And I said, 'It's okay, Dad, I've got a whole pound note saved!' And when he knew what I could see…right before he pulled away from me there was this feeling of revulsion…so strong, and all directed at me. Mum was better, but she didn't like what I could see about her either." _And once they found out what I could do, they were very careful never to touch me again._

"Oh, James," Lewis whispered, horrified, remembering Hathaway saying once that he liked hugs but didn't have much experience with them.

"After something like that happens, you don't go around telling people your magic works by touch. And I was lucky. I was good at charmcasting, so nearly everyone assumed that was where my magical talent resided," Hathaway said. _If you hadn't worked out, once you learned about magic, that mine works through touch, I would never have told you._

 _After all that, I don't blame you,_ Lewis answered. Now it was clearer why James had been so ambivalent about magic…why he had never seen it as a completely good thing…why, after this and the incident where he'd lost control, it had been so easy for him to give it up.

Hathaway snuggled against Lewis, his head on Lewis's shoulder, his arms wrapped firmly around Lewis's middle. _You're the only person who ever knew how my magic worked and still wanted to touch me._

Lewis rested his cheek against Hathaway's head. "That's not going to change."

"I'm glad." Hathaway snuggled closer. "Because now that I have this, I don't think I could give it up."

"Neither could I," Lewis admitted. "We're…" He took a deep breath. What he was about to say…well, he thought probably he and Hathaway both knew about it, but neither of them had ever voiced it. "We're together, you and me. Aren't we?"

He felt Hathaway nod against his shoulder, felt too the deep joy echoing through Hathaway as his hopes were confirmed. "I've thought so for a while now."

Lewis turned his head to leave a kiss atop Hathaway's hair. "Good."

He felt rather than saw Hathaway close his eyes, Hathaway's contented mental sigh of _Robbie_ easy to hear in his own mind.

 _Here, pet,_ he answered, hugging Hathaway more tightly. _I'm right here._


	22. Paperwork

Paperwork wasn't the most scintillating job Lewis ever had. But it was something to do every day, and he'd had lots of duties over the course of his working life that had been equally or less interesting than that. He could still work beside James, too, which was one of the most important things. Innocent wouldn't have them in the field now, and Lewis understood that. It was frustrating not to be able to use the skills he'd been honing all his life, but every time Lewis thought of complaining about that, he thought about how he'd feel if James were in danger.

It wasn't that Lewis had suddenly become risk averse. He'd been relatively risk averse as a young man with a family, though circumstances didn't always comply with your wishes when you were a copper. After Val had died, though…Lewis didn't know if he kept running into dangerous situations because he disregarded the warning signs he would've noticed before or if it was simply a run of bad luck. The kids were still motivators for him, but they were far away, and regardless of the outcomes, he knew that he sometimes took risks that he wouldn't have taken twenty years ago.

It was one thing to risk himself. It was another to risk James.

Lewis loved Val and would always miss her. And they hadn't had any sort of magical bond--well, not as far as he knew, although Val could've been magical without his knowing, couldn't she? But that was the point…he had been almost destroyed by her loss. He remembered all too well the vivid dreams he'd had when he'd had nightmare flu, and he still shuddered at the memory of touching James's arm and feeling nothing. He couldn't lose James. And if doing paperwork meant he was that much less likely to lose James, he would do it without complaint.

Didn't mean it wasn't still dead boring sometimes.

It was actually Lewis who began the search for interesting ways to get paperwork from his desk to Hathaway's. He fashioned one of the forms into a paper plane and flew it neatly to Hathaway's desk. Hathaway had looked over at him with that little smirk that meant he was secretly delighted but would have to appear at least slightly neutral in public.

"Was that a charm?" Hathaway asked, sounding appreciative.

Lewis couldn't hold back a smile. "No charm necessary. You have two kids, you learn the secret to a perfect paper plane."

It escalated from there. Hathaway zapped the next paper from his desk to Lewis's with a small puff of decorative smoke. Lewis tried the same charm but turned the paper blue somewhere along the way, so he silently determined to find another way to do it. The papers moved quickly and frequently, back and forth, and in ever more elaborate ways.

Finally, Lewis heard a little scrabbling sound, and peered over the edge of his desk to find a small paper figure of a man scaling the side of his desk. When the paper man reached the top of his desk, he bowed to Lewis before unfolding himself into a flat, ordinary sheet of paper.

Lewis looked at Hathaway, amazed. "Bloody hell."

Hathaway grinned. "School gave me a few chances to come up with creative ways to pass notes."

"I think that's the best one I've ever seen," Lewis said.

There was the sound of someone clearing her throat from the doorway, and Lewis and Hathaway turned to see Innocent standing just outside their office, arms folded, eyebrows raised.

"Ma'am," Hathaway said.

Innocent looked at them a moment longer, then shook her head and walked away without a word.

Hathaway looked at Lewis, giving him a questioning look that meant _Do you think we're really in trouble?_

Lewis shook his head. Innocent would know better than anyone what they needed to make their job interesting for themselves. And he didn't think she'd mind.

"Come on," Lewis said. "If we finish early, maybe you can show me the charm that makes that little paper man."

Hathaway smiled. "Of course."


	23. Consulting

Norrington was the first one to come to Hathaway and Lewis for help on a difficult case, and he looked as though he had no desire to be there whatsoever. 

He was working on a case involving a theft that inexplicably scattered magic all around the room but left no traces on the walls, doors, or windows. It took twenty minutes of sharing information with Lewis and Hathaway for Lewis to work out that there were no traces of magic on the traditional entrances or exits because the thief had charmed and had then entered through the mirror. Norrington left much cheered.

Ordinarily, it bothered Hathaway that Norrington was a gossip, but this time, he didn't mind. Norrington spread the word that Hathaway and Lewis could crack the most difficult cases, so more and more of their colleagues began to come to them for help. How was the magic used? Who was the ghost? Why did only one person in a crowded room witness the crime? If they couldn't work out the answer, they could usually provide some questions that got the other person or people looking in the right direction.

Lewis didn't say anything about it, but Hathaway could tell that Lewis had cheered considerably since taking on the role of consultant. Solving cases, after all, was what he liked to do…what they both liked to do. And although this only let them do it in a limited capacity, it was better than not getting to do it at all. Hathaway had noticed that he was much less likely to be sullen and snappish since their stint as consulting detectives had begun. And he suspected he knew who he had to thank for that.

Hathaway was fetching tea for himself and Lewis when Innocent wandered into the tea room.

"I understand you're the local experts in the more difficult aspects of cases now," she said.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you," Hathaway said.

Innocent shrugged. "You don't need to thank me."

"I do, actually," Hathaway said. "Because you're the one who sent Norrington to us in the first place."

"I merely made a suggestion," Innocent said, but there was enough humour in her gaze that Hathaway knew he had reasoned correctly. "Although I was aware that if it went well, he would notify others with some efficacy."

"It's been good for both of us," Hathaway said, leaving his thanks implicit.

"Does Inspector Lewis know?"

Hathaway paused, then nodded. "If I know, he knows."

"You know him better than I do," Innocent said. "Will he get stroppy and refuse to co-operate now that he knows it was planned?"

Hathaway shook his head. "He knows who, ma'am, but I don't think he cares why. He likes the work. So do I."

"Good," Innocent said. "I was afraid I wouldn't be able to think of a solution before I lost you two. And that would've been unacceptable."

The praise was entirely unexpected, and before Hathaway could think of a response, Innocent nodded briskly, leaving the tea room. "Carry on."

Hathaway had always believed that he and Lewis were good detectives. But it was comforting to know that Innocent thought so as well.


	24. Charmed

Hathaway was sprawled in his armchair, reading, when he felt a gentle tug on the bond from Lewis. He straightened, book forgotten in his lap. _Robbie?_

Lewis's voice was softer than usual, and perhaps a bit more tentative. _Sweetheart? I'm all right, but can you come here?_

Hathaway decided to forego the usual social conventions--leave the flat, lock the door, get in the car, et cetera--and instead whispered a charm that deposited him directly in Lewis's living room.

Lewis jumped in surprise, then smiled when he saw it was James. "You startled me."

"Sorry," Hathaway said. He took a hesitant step forward. "What happened? You said you're all right?"

"I was trying a new charm," Lewis said. His voice was still softer than usual, his mien almost shy, and he didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. "It's a charm to reveal hidden things. I thought it might help me find my sunglasses." He fidgeted. "But I got it wrong. I cast it on me."

In a heartbeat, Hathaway understood. The charm had revealed that part of Lewis he kept hidden from public view…his emotions, his vulnerability. Lewis seemed fragile in a way Hathaway had never seen before.

Hathaway took another step closer, unsure whether Lewis would welcome their bond at a time like this. "What can I do?"

Lewis closed the distance between them and drew Hathaway tenderly into his arms, their bond sliding firmly into place with the touch.

"I know I'm different," Lewis whispered, "but I knew you would be safe." Deep trust filled Lewis's side of the bond.

Hathaway hugged Lewis in turn, almost afraid to tighten his embrace for fear Lewis would break. Lewis lowered his head so it rested against Hathaway's chest.

"I like to listen to your breathing," Lewis whispered, with his thoughts adding that hearing the soft breaths meant Hathaway was all right.

Lewis would never have admitted such a private thought on a normal day. Hathaway kissed the top of Lewis's head gently, and was surprised when Lewis nuzzled Hathaway's chest with his cheek in response. So…more openly affectionate as well, then.

"What would you like me to do?" Hathaway asked.

Reluctance from Lewis. "I don't know if you want to."

"Then ask me," Hathaway said, wondering what could seem so difficult to ask for and whether he would feel uncomfortable giving it.

Lewis lifted his head to look at Hathaway, expression deeply shy. "It's all right to say no, once I've asked. If you don't want to. I'd never want you to be uncomfortable." His hands had come to rest on Hathaway's chest now, another marker of vulnerability.

"Go on," Hathaway said.

"I just wondered if you had any interest in kissing me at all?" Lewis asked, his nerves thrumming along the bond.

Hathaway blinked, startled. "Do you want to kiss me?"

Lewis's gaze shifted down again, and he whispered, "I always want to kiss you." He looked at Hathaway. "But do you want that?"

Hathaway nodded, and the movement felt so abrupt and jerky that he wouldn't have been surprised to hear his teeth clicking together. "Yes. I want to. Very much."

Relief from Lewis, and redoubled affection. "I worry sometimes that…I don't want to do anything to remind you of…of _her_."

"You never have," Hathaway said. He reached out, taking Lewis's face in his hands, the touch evoking such a deep yearning in Lewis that it almost made Hathaway's own heart ache. He'd had no idea that Lewis had wanted this, even with their bond strong as it was.

 _You show me so much physical affection already,_ Lewis told him silently. _It seemed greedy to ask for more._

Hathaway answered by pressing his lips to Lewis's.

The kiss itself was gentle, but the feelings behind it weren't. Hathaway felt uncertain, worried that he didn't know how to do this properly, that if Lewis didn't like it they'd never do this again. Lewis soothed him gently, though he was nervous too…it had been a long time since he'd done this and he wasn't sure his old knowledge would do him any favours now. But as the kiss went on, thoughts fading into sensations, the kiss simply felt…good. To both of them.

Hathaway pulled back, panting softly, uncertain whether he would ask if that was what Lewis had wanted.

But Lewis heard the unspoken question and whispered, "Yes," snuggling against Hathaway, wanting to be close to him tonight. Hathaway was happy to cuddle him closer.

"Do you know," Hathaway said, "I think I'm almost glad you cast that charm on yourself. I'm…" Flattered? Honoured? "I love that I get to see this part of you."

Relief from Lewis again. "I hoped you wouldn't mind too much."

Mind? Hathaway shook his head. _You're precious to me. Every bit of you._

Lewis snuggled closer, the bond telling Hathaway that he was feeling very emotional. Hathaway murmured softly to Lewis, hand moving in small circles against his back.

 _I love you, Jamie,_ Lewis said. _So much._

Hathaway raised his eyebrows. _Jamie_?

Embarrassment from Lewis. _Never called you that because you don't seem the sort who'd like nicknames. But in my head, that's what I call you._

Hathaway wasn't sure he did like nicknames. But he did like shows of affection, and that was what this was. _Jamie's all right._

 _Is it?_ Lewis sounded surprised.

Hathaway nodded. _I like Jamie._

Lewis hummed in satisfaction, returning his head to its earlier position against Hathaway's chest. "So I've had my kiss. But what about you?"

Hathaway shrugged. "What about me?"

"What do you want?"

"I want you," Hathaway said. "Everything else is just details."

Lewis kissed him sweetly, then rested their foreheads together. "You've got me."

"I'm glad." Hathaway gently brushed his fingertips across Lewis's cheek. Lewis shivered and his eyelids lowered. Hathaway had to admit it was exciting to see Lewis so open and responsive to his touch.

Lewis's eyes opened. "Jamie? Will I…is this charm temporary? Will I go back to normal on my own, or will the charm need to be broken?"

"It should fade away while you're sleeping," Hathaway said. "But if it doesn't, would you like me to break it in the morning?"

Lewis nodded. "I don't mind with you. But I can't go to work this way. I'd see a case file and cry all day."

Hathaway held Lewis a bit closer, feeling protective of his bondmate. "We'll have you back to normal first thing tomorrow."

"But," Lewis said, "there's still tonight to think about."

"May I stay?" Hathaway asked, trying to sound as though he weren't eager for the answer.

Lewis wasn't fooled. "Of course you can." He pulled back from Hathaway, tugging gently on his hand to lead him to the bedroom.

When they were curled up together in bed, Lewis whispered, "I don't sleep nearly as well when I'm not touching you…when I can't feel the bond."

Hathaway nodded, his cheek brushing Lewis's hair. "Neither do I." He paused, heart beating more rapidly as he finally voiced what he'd been thinking about on his own. "Maybe we should do this every night."

"Can we?" Lewis asked, his longing tangible in the bond.

"Of course," Hathaway said. "We can start tomorrow if you like."

Lewis nodded. "Yes, please."

It wasn't moving in together--Hathaway wasn't sure either of them was ready for that. But it was another step closer, and Hathaway was happy to take it.

"Me too, Jamie," Lewis whispered, half-asleep already.

Hathaway smiled, holding Lewis close as he felt him fall asleep through their bond. It was such an intimate thing, feeling the sensation of someone else falling asleep, and yet things like this had come to feel so normal, so natural between them.

Hathaway had never hoped for a life like this. Maybe that was why it meant so much to him now that he did have it.

He was asleep in minutes, his bondmate wrapped safely in his arms.


	25. Identity

_James! Help--_

The panicked, abruptly cut off thought woke Hathaway from a sound sleep, and Hathaway reached out mentally. _Robbie?_

Nothing. Hathaway couldn't hear Lewis, couldn't feel him. Even at this distance, the bond should let him feel something…where Lewis was, what he was up to. Instead, there was only emptiness and silence.

Hathaway scrambled out of bed, grabbing his jacket and sliding his feet into whatever shoes were nearest. Something was wrong. Lewis had tried to call for help and had been silenced, and Hathaway couldn't find him through their bond.

He arrived at Lewis's flat a complete mess, racing up the stairs two at a time and breathing heavily as he knocked on Lewis's door.

Lewis opened the door a moment later. "James?"

"Are you all right?" Hathaway panted. 

Lewis frowned. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Hathaway leaned against the wall. "Didn't you call me?"

Lewis didn't seem to understand for a moment. Then his expression cleared, and he nodded. "Sometimes I phone people in my sleep. I'm sorry to have put you to all this trouble, but I'm fine."

That didn't even make sense--Lewis hadn't phoned Hathaway; he'd called him mentally. Besides, Lewis had had nightmares before, and Hathaway could always feel him, could even visit him if Lewis needed him badly enough. Lewis had never just…disappeared.

Hathaway nodded, touching Lewis's shoulder. "If you're sure you're all right."

Lewis smiled, manoeuvring quickly away from Hathaway's touch. "Fine. Thanks. You didn't need to be here."

"All right," Hathaway said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Lewis said, closing the door to his flat.

Hathaway cradled the hand he'd touched Lewis with, feeling oddly alone.

There had been no sign of his bond with Lewis when Hathaway had touched him. None at all.

***

Hathaway stayed up for the better part of the night researching possible reasons he had suddenly gone bond-blind with Lewis. The results weren't encouraging, especially since Hathaway hadn't been able to hear anything from Lewis at all. Even before Lewis had been made aware of the possibility of magic, Hathaway could always get at least a sense of the man when he'd touched him. But last night, there had been nothing for Hathaway to feel.

There were two possibilities. Either someone was controlling Lewis and thus blocking Lewis's calls for help, or Lewis was blocking himself from Hathaway for some reason. Given Lewis's urgent call for help, Hathaway doubted that Lewis was blocking his own thoughts, and Lewis pulling away from his touch and asking him to leave was incredibly uncharacteristic.

But whoever was blocking Lewis's thoughts from Hathaway might not know about the bond. That would explain why Lewis had mentioned that nonsense about phoning people in his sleep--whoever was controlling Lewis and making him speak couldn't read his mind and didn't know about the bond. Hathaway had said "You called me," and whoever was controlling Lewis had assumed that meant Lewis had phoned him. Hathaway didn't dare probe deeper, because that would alert whatever charmcaster was involved in this that Hathaway was suspicious, and the charmcaster had control of Lewis. Hathaway would never do anything to put Lewis in danger…well, more danger than he was already in.

Hathaway hoped Lewis wasn't under the power of a marionette charm, because if he was, Lewis was trapped inside his own mind somewhere, still calling for help. And he must have been buried deep for Hathaway not to have felt him when they'd touched.

 _I'll find you and I'll let you out of there,_ Hathaway thought. _I promise._

***

Lewis phoned Hathaway the next morning, and the conversation wasn't encouraging.

"I'm not feeling very well today," Lewis said, "so I think I'm going to stay home."

"Do you want anything?" Hathaway asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Soup, for instance."

Lewis chuckled. "There's honestly no need to worry about me. It's just a touch of flu."

Lewis would never have been blase about flu, especially since his last bout of it. "Yes, but if you need something…"

"If I need something, I can take care of myself," Lewis said. "I don't need you constantly looking over my shoulder and making sure I've had my tea."

Hathaway smothered the hurt he felt by reminding himself that it wasn't Lewis saying these things. "Of course. I'm sorry."

"I expect a full report when I'm well enough to come in again," Lewis said.

Oh, so it was like that, was it? Hathaway cleared his throat. "Yes, sir. Of course."

"Good. I'll talk to you later." And Lewis hung up without so much as a goodbye.

Hathaway wished he'd thought to look for spells that might've been cast on Lewis last night, when he'd touched him. Then again, he could usually sense a spell, particularly a malicious one, with the briefest of touches, which meant the charmcaster he was dealing with was good at hiding his or her work.

Hathaway did go in to the nick (another thing the person speaking through Lewis hadn't known--that Hathaway and Lewis were only offering consulting services, and that Hathaway's relationship with Lewis was something more than strictly work-based) and straight to Innocent's office.

"We may have a situation," he said.

Innocent nodded. "Sit down and tell me what's wrong."

He sat. "I have reason to believe Inspector Lewis may have come under the control of a marionette charm." Briefly, Hathaway told Innocent what he had learnt, and what he suspected.

"If he'll be in today, I can have a look at him."

"He won't be. He's claiming to be ill," Hathaway said. "I suspect that he or she doesn't want to have to pretend to be Inspector Lewis in a situation where everyone knows him, though I also suspect that the charmcaster doesn't know Inspector Lewis is aware of magic."

"Have you been able to touch Lewis?"

"Yes."

"Could you feel him?"

"No."

Innocent sighed. "I hesitate to bring this up, but there is another possibility."

At first, Hathaway didn't know what she meant. Then he did, and almost shivered at the idea. "He's not dead."

"I know it's very rare for a charmcaster to be able to steal someone else's body," Innocent began.

"No. That's not what happened. He's still alive."

Innocent gave Hathaway a sympathetic look. "Can you feel him through the bond? Do you have any sense at all of where he might be?"

Hathaway shook his head. "But I know he's there to be found. I have to believe I would know if he had been…" But he couldn't say the words. They felt too much like tempting fate. "He's in there somewhere. I'll go in to get him myself if I have to."

"All right," Innocent said. "If anything changes, or if you should need me, don't hesitate to let me know."

Hathaway nodded. "Thank you, ma'am."

***

At twelve-thirty in the afternoon, Hathaway received a telephone call from an unidentified number. "Hathaway."

"Erm, yeah, hello. This is Mark Grant at Middlegate." A magic prison.

"Mr Grant," Hathaway said. "What can I do for you?"

"We've got a situation with one of the prisoners. Wanted to call you herself, but I told her I'd do it for her." Grant cleared his throat. "Thing is, I've never seen her like this. She's normally a bit remote. But all day today, she's been beside herself, and she keeps saying, 'Call Hathaway at Oxford MIT.' So I have."

Hathaway frowned. "Who are we talking about?"

"Scarlett Mortmaigne. Only she says that's not her name. She says she's called Lewis, and that you need to come here straightaway."

Hathaway felt his stomach lurch. No. Not Scarlett. She couldn't have got to Robbie. Such a thing should have been impossible.

He forced himself to speak calmly. "The magic cancellation charms at your prison…they've been operational all week?"

"Course they have," Grant said indignantly. "Well, they were down fifteen minutes late last night for routine maintenance, but…"

Oh, no. Fifteen minutes would have been enough time. And everyone knew self-defence charms wore off and ebbed away as you slept. Scarlett had waited until her magic wasn't blocked and then she'd taken control of Robbie…perhaps even sent some portion of herself to his body to keep control when the magic-blocking charms at the prison resumed. And she might have been able to touch Lewis's mind long enough to gather information about him…to pretend to be him. And Hathaway couldn't talk to Lewis about it because she had control of him too.

What was he going to do? What could he do?

"If I came for a visit," he said slowly, "could I talk to her?"

"You could."

Hathaway knew this was a terrible idea, but he had no choice.

"I'll be there soon as I can," he said.

***

Prisons for people who had misused magic were, of course, impossible to find unless a person knew magic himself or herself. To people who didn't know about magic but had friends or acquaintances sent to prison for misusing magic, cover stories were concocted, often involving a trip abroad or some sort of long-distance job. Prisoners had to write non-magical family and friends letters to reinforce these stories, but even if they tried to write the truth, non-magical people read the letters as though they only contained non-magical information. Hathaway had always been keenly aware of the strangeness of the process.

Magic prisons were also fitted with the same sort of magic-blocking charms that the MIT holding cells were. No one inside could cast charms on anyone inside or outside the prison, and a person's powers only worked inside if his or her powers didn't have any effect on someone else or themselves. Lewis's ability to hear the truth, for instance, would have worked, but someone with the ability to emotionally influence others would have been rendered powerless by the charms.

Hathaway had been trying to prepare himself to see Scarlett again, but the truth was that he still feared her. He would ordinarily have asked Lewis to come with him, but as Lewis was under someone else's control, Hathaway couldn't trust him. Logically, Hathaway knew Scarlett wouldn't have any access to charmcasting in here, but somehow she always seemed to find his most vulnerable area. Once it had been his lack of self-defence charms, and now it was his attachment to and desire to protect Lewis. Hathaway knew he couldn't let her into his head, or it would all go badly wrong, and for Lewis's sake, he couldn't let it go wrong.

Hathaway hesitated outside the door to the visiting room, looking at Scarlett from a distance. She looked…different than the last time he'd seen her. Then she'd been proud, unrepentant. Now, she looked haunted, body hunched forward, free of all the trappings that had made her seem so glamorous and unreachable.

But that could have been because of her time in prison. No doubt someone from family and money had the potential to attract quite a bit of attention in this situation, little of it positive. There were other explanations for her being upset than the one she offered. He would have to be careful. He'd proved himself to be vulnerable to her once; he couldn't afford to let her use him again.

But if she was behind what had happened to Lewis, he was going to find out about it.

As he entered the room, Scarlett looked up at him, and her whole demeanour changed. "James!"

Hathaway sat across from her. "Yes?"

All the hope went from her eyes then. "You don't believe me."

Hathaway raised his eyebrows. "Have you forgotten what happened the last time we spoke?"

Scarlett shook her head, eyes sad. "I called you. Something woke me, and I called for help." She shuddered, hunching further forward.

"Anyone could know that."

"Not anyone!" Scarlett said indignantly. "Unless they've been spending time in me head." She even had his accent right…his speech patterns. This was going to be more difficult than Hathaway had thought. There was a loud noise in the distance, and Scarlett jumped.

"What is it?" Hathaway asked, playing for time.

Scarlett shook her head. "I don't like prisons."

"I don't expect anyone does," Hathaway said.

"Why did you come here if you don't believe me?" Scarlett asked, voice carrying the same sadness that was in her eyes.

"Because I want to know what you did to him," Hathaway snapped.

"What I did?" Scarlett closed her eyes. "This must be a nightmare. My James would believe me."

"I'm not your James."

Scarlett studied his face carefully. "No," she said, voice dropping to near-inaudibility. "My mistake."

Hathaway waited. "So?"

"So nothing," Scarlett said, staring at the table. "So never mind."

"You know why I can't trust you."

Tears shone in her eyes but didn't fall. "I know."

"Your charms are blocked in here. How are you controlling him?"

Scarlett shook her head, eyes downcast.

James had thought facing Scarlett authoritatively would make him feel strong and capable. Instead, he felt like a bully and a coward, merciless and cruel while she accepted every terrible thing he had to say about her without complaint or comment. She acted as though she had already lost, and it was unnerving.

"I'll go, then. If there's nothing else," Scarlett said, moving to stand.

"Wait." Without quite knowing why, Hathaway caught her hand.

The emotions that engulfed him made him dizzy--sorrow, hopelessness, despair, loss. And he knew the shape of these feelings. They were from a familiar source…a familiar bond.

"Robbie," Hathaway whispered, eyes widening.

Scarlett clutched his hand like a lifeline. "James, get me out of here, please."

Hathaway shook his head, still in shock. Scarlett could've been clever enough to pretend to be Lewis, but no magic could simulate a bond…which meant this really was Lewis. "How did this happen?"

Lewis shook his head. "I don't know. I woke up because I felt strange. Then I was here." He swallowed. "If I'm her, she must be me."

"I knew something was wrong," Hathaway said. "From the beginning. I didn't know what, but…I'm so sorry I didn't believe you."

"You believe me now," Lewis said. He sighed. "I know it won't be easy. Convincing people to let me go."

"I might have an idea how to do that," Hathaway said.

***

Innocent arrived at Middlegate by car, looking distinctly sour.

"I would've been here ages ago," she told Hathaway, "but of course you can't get here by magic."

Hathaway nodded. "I understand, ma'am. Thank you for coming."

The moment Innocent saw the prisoner everyone knew as Scarlett Mortmaigne, she turned and gave Grant a furious look. "What are you doing with one of my officers?"

Hathaway's knees nearly weakened with relief. "It's him, then, ma'am?"

"Of course it's him," Innocent said. "Though what he's doing in that young woman's body I've no idea." She looked at Hathaway. "I should've known better than to doubt your instincts where Lewis is concerned."

Hathaway managed a small smile at that.

The next few hours were a bureaucratic nightmare, but eventually, the way was made clear for Lewis to be released into Hathaway's custody. In the event that Scarlett returned to her own body, she was to be detained until she could be transported back to Middlegate.

As they walked out to Hathaway's car, Hathaway rested a gentle hand on Lewis's back. Lewis nearly sagged into the touch.

"All right?" Hathaway asked gently.

Lewis was definitely not all right. He was worried and off-balance and nearly sick with nerves. "Can we just go home please?"

"Of course," Hathaway said.

Lewis was silent most of the ride home.

"You weren't…no one hurt you while you were in there, did they?" Hathaway asked carefully.

Lewis shook his head. "I don't like talking with her voice."

Ah. Hathaway nodded. "We'll be home soon."

Lewis slung an arm around Hathaway's waist on the way into his flat. "She's so little," he murmured. "I mean, I'm so little now."

Hathaway nodded, unlocking his front door and guiding Lewis inside. "It must feel strange."

"It feels awful," Lewis said quietly.

Hathaway reached for Lewis's hand. "Tell me."

Their bond clicked into place, and Lewis's roiling thoughts were made clear to Hathaway. Lewis was comfortable in his own body; he knew how it was supposed to work, how it balanced, how it felt. Scarlett's body wasn't the same, and Lewis felt awkward and uncomfortable, as though he'd received a shape and form he'd never signed up for. Every move he made and sentence he spoke reminded him that he wasn't where he was meant to be…who he was meant to be. He felt lost…trapped.

 _I'm so sorry_ , Hathaway told him silently, hugging him close.

Lewis held tight to Hathaway, but even as he did, he was noticing the difference in the way Scarlett's arms moved, how different it felt to hold her body close to Hathaway's. All he wanted was for things to be the same as they had been, but everything felt so different. 

"I don't like this," Lewis whispered miserably.

"I know," Hathaway whispered back, holding Lewis close. He'd held Scarlett before, and Lewis in her body didn't feel like her at all.

Lewis pulled back slightly to give Hathaway a hopeful look. "Really?"

Hathaway nodded. "It's nothing like holding her."

Lewis said nothing, but his relief was palpable. He'd been afraid of becoming more like her, and then James wouldn't want…

"What?" Hathaway said. "You thought I would…"

"You don't even like to think about her most of the time," Lewis said. "Last time you saw her, when you were scrying, you were sick. If I look like her…sound like her…" Lewis's fear coursed through the bond.

"But you won't be her," Hathaway said.

Hathaway could feel how shaken Lewis had been when Hathaway hadn't recognised him at the prison. If Hathaway hadn't touched him…hadn't seen the truth…

"But I did," Hathaway interrupted. "You're here now. And you're safe."

Lewis nodded. "I'm tired, that's all. Hard to sleep when you wake up in someone else's body in prison."

Hathaway nodded. "Come on then. We'll get some sleep and talk about what to do tomorrow."

Lewis nodded, following Hathaway into the bedroom and into bed. After a few moments, they were nestled together in the usual way, arms around each other.

"This is better," Lewis whispered. "Thank you."

Hathaway gave Lewis a gentle squeeze. "Things will look better in the morning."

Lewis nodded against Hathaway's chest. "All right." He tried to move closer to Hathaway, even though he was already as close as he could get. "Thank you for getting me out of there."

"Thank you for being there to find," Hathaway whispered. _Innocent thought you might've died._

Warmth and comfort from Lewis. _Didn't, though, did I? I'm right here. Such as I am._

Hathaway nodded, hugging Lewis a bit more tightly. _We'll get your body back. I promise._

 _I believe you._ Lewis stretched up to kiss Hathaway's cheek gently. "Night, pet."

"Night, Robbie," Hathaway said.

They fell asleep with no further complications.

***

Hathaway woke to find Lewis wrapped around him, Lewis's head on Hathaway's chest.

"Good morning," Hathaway said groggily.

"Morning," Lewis said. He didn't sound as though he'd been asleep.

"How long have you been awake?" Hathaway asked.

"Just been thinking," Lewis said, although his thoughts told Hathaway he'd been awake an hour or two.

"About?"

Worry from Lewis. "Will you answer me honestly?"

"Yes, of course," Hathaway said.

Lewis sighed. "Would you rather I stay like this?"

Hathaway frowned. "What?"

"It makes more sense, doesn't it?" Lewis said. "You and a woman your own age instead of you and an old man."

"No, it doesn't make sense," Hathaway said. "You told me last night how unsettled this body made you feel."

Confirmation from Lewis through the bond.

"Then why would I want that for you? I have a bond with you, Robbie, in your own body. I want you to be comfortable and happy just as much as you want me to be. How do you think I'd feel knowing you sacrificed your comfort…yourself...so I could have what? A pretty wife?"

"Just thought I should ask before we did anything more," Lewis said, feeling unmistakably relieved.

Hathaway sent Lewis his own affection and love. _I want you as you want to be._

 _Thank you,_ Lewis thought.

Hathaway hugged Lewis gently. _Still feeling uneasy today?_

Lewis nodded. _Even with the charm…I feel wrong. As though I'm not meant to be here._

 _You're not,_ Hathaway said. _Should we pay Scarlett a visit today?_

Lewis shrank against Hathaway. _I know we should. But I can't help thinking, what if she does something worse?_ Lewis could still remember how terrible and disorientating the forgetting charm had been, and he feared someone else casting a malicious charm on him.

Hathaway held Lewis close, tamping down his own fear so Lewis wouldn't be able to feel it. _I wasn't there before. I will be this time._ He reminded Lewis that he'd seen Hathaway protect him before when his life had been in danger; his magic had sprung to Lewis's defence as quickly and easily as it could spring to his own.

Lewis nodded, telling Hathaway wordlessly that he trusted him. _I suppose we should go._

 _When you're ready,_ Hathaway said.

Lewis relaxed against him. _Thank you._

***

James knocked on the door to Lewis's flat, and it only took a few moments for Lewis--or rather, Scarlett in Lewis's body--to answer the door.

Now that James knew who he was looking at, Scarlett's presence was undeniable. Scarlett stood taller in Lewis's body than Lewis did, and paid more attention to dressing to advantage than Lewis ever had. She'd softened his hair and was wearing blue to set off his eyes.

"I wanted to apologise," Scarlett said, giving James what would have passed for a contrite look in most situations.

"What?" Lewis said, stepping into view. "To me as well?"

Scarlett's smile turned forced. "James? What is she doing here?"

"I don't know, Scarlett," Hathaway said acidly. "Why don't you tell me?"

Scarlett's smile fell away. "You always were too clever for your own good."

"I don't believe there's any such thing," Hathaway said.

Scarlett began to utter the words of some charm, but Hathaway felt his magic waking within, and a sense of calm enveloped him. With one gesture, he took Lewis's voice away from Scarlett.

"I will never," Hathaway said, perfectly calm, "let you hurt him again."

Scarlett stared at him, aghast.

"Now," Hathaway said, "go back of your own accord or I will put you back myself." He returned Lewis's voice.

"But that's impossible," Scarlett stammered, composure truly lost. "You'd sworn off magic. You told me!"

Hathaway gave her a placid smile. "A lot can happen when a person's in prison, Scarlett. Now, please, take your body back, and keep in mind that if you begin a different charm, I will know and I will stop you."

Scarlett sighed, looking down with disgust at her stolen body. "This body's got almost no magic at all. It took nearly all the power in it to keep my presence hidden from you, and I could hardly do anything else. Pathetic."

Lewis squared his shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. "Give it back then."

Scarlett gave Lewis a look of utter contempt, then turned her attention back to Hathaway. "I don't fancy going back to prison. But…" She took a step closer to Hathaway, eyes calculating and thoughtful. "I do rather like the amount of power you've got, darling. Perhaps we could come to an arrangement." She reached out to touch his arm, expression sultry.

Hathaway stretched out a hand, stopping Scarlett from moving any closer. Her eyes widened as she struggled against unseen restraints.

"I think not," he said, still perfectly, eerily calm in the throes of his magic. "Last chance, Scarlett."

Scarlett's face--Lewis's face--twisted with hatred, but slowly, she recited the charm that would put her and Lewis back in their rightful bodies. At the end of the charm, both Scarlett and Lewis made a soft sound.

Blinking, Lewis reached out to touch Hathaway's hand. Hathaway let him, and their bond fell into place. _It's me, Jamie._

Hathaway heard scuffling behind him, and turned to see Scarlett running away down the hall. He spoke a few words, freezing her in place such that she couldn't recite any charms or run any further.

"Robbie," Hathaway said, "please call the police, if you would."

Hathaway lost track of time after that. He was still in that strange space where time didn't seem to exist and other people barely did. All that mattered was to protect Lewis, and Hathaway kept his magic firm around Scarlett to keep her where she was until the police arrived.

"James." Lewis's voice and a touch on Hathaway's shoulder startled Hathaway, and he looked at Lewis expectantly.

"They've got her in custody now," Lewis said gently. _You can let her go._

It was only after Hathaway released Scarlett that he realised how tired he was, how spent. He staggered backward, but Lewis was behind him and kept him from falling. "Come on. Let's go inside."

They were inside and sitting on the sofa next to each other when Hathaway suddenly snapped out of the vague calm his magic brought on. He turned to Lewis, alarm springing awake, touching him with both hands to be sure of their bond. "Robbie…"

"I'm all right, James," Lewis said, reassurance flooding his voice and their bond.

Hathaway touched Lewis's face, trying to stop his hand trembling. "And you're not her. She's gone."

"Yes, she's gone," Lewis said. "You've seen to that."

Hathaway forced himself to smile, but he couldn't seem to stop shaking. "And you're all right? You're really all right?" His hands wandered across Lewis's face, chest, shoulders, as he tried to reassure himself that Lewis was fine.

 _James,_ Lewis said. _I'm all right. Really._

Hathaway nodded, but he was still trembling. _I know. I know. I just…_

Lewis folded Hathaway in his arms and held him close. "I know, love. I know." He rubbed Hathaway's back gently. "You protected me, just like you said you would."

Hathaway hid his face against Lewis's shoulder. "I couldn't let her hurt you."

"And you didn't," Lewis said. "And you know now that you can protect us both against her if you need to."

Hathaway nodded, but he still didn't feel that way. Scarlett casting a love charm on him had burnt a deep fear into him, and even though he had protected Lewis and himself today, he still feared losing control to her again…or losing Lewis to her. The feelings of upset and fear didn't vanish because he'd stood up to her once.

Lewis's arms tightened around him. "It's all right if you need to cry," he whispered.

Because Lewis was here and it was safe now, Hathaway finally let go his self-control. And he did cry. Lewis held Hathaway close and comforted him until he was utterly spent. 

"I think," Lewis said quietly, "we should take the rest of the day for ourselves. Watch comedy films and make lunch and dinner together and just stay close and stay with each other. Touching all the time if we want to…if we need to. What do you think?"

"I think I'd like that," Hathaway said. "Would you?"

Lewis chuckled, and the sound comforted Hathaway in a way few other sounds did. 

"Don't think I would've suggested it if I didn't like the idea, James," Lewis said.

Hathaway flushed. "Right."

Lewis's eyes grew affectionate, and he gave James a gentle kiss. "Go on. Pick something you'd like to watch. I'll take a turn after you."

"No," Hathaway said, reaching out to take Lewis's hand. "You should choose first. I've only been worried about you; you've been in another body and to prison."

Lewis laughed. "It's not a contest. Although I will admit I don't feel much like watching _The Shawshank Redemption._ "

Hathaway smiled. "That wasn't going to be one of my suggestions anyway. Come on. Let's find something together."

Lewis smiled back. "Yeah, I think that'd be best."

And it was.


	26. Childhood

"So," Lewis said to Hathaway sometime in mid-October, "what's a proper magical Halloween like?"

Hathaway gave Lewis a slight smile. "I hate to tell you this, but Halloween isn't all that special for people with magic."

"That can't be right," Lewis said, sounding surprised. "What about things like…dunno…haunted houses or going door-to-door in costume?"

"There's the occasional haunted house that's charmed rather than done the nonmagical way, or a costume augmented with charms, but the problem with using charms on Halloween is that there are a whole group of people who don't know about magic and won't see anything."

"You mean if I charmed meself to look like a vampire and went to see our Lyn, she'd only see me?"

Hathaway nodded. "An entirely non-vampiric you."

"Well, that's not much fun, is it?" Lewis asked, looking disappointed.

Hathaway was rather amused by the whole thing. Had Lewis been imagining elaborate costume parties? "I'm sorry to disillusion you."

Lewis sat up straighter, looking determined. "You haven't. Just because no one else has any fun on Halloween doesn't mean we can't. You come back to mine Halloween night. I'll have something fun for us to do."

Hathaway smiled at him. At the very least, Halloween would be interesting this year.

***

Hathaway had just let himself in to Lewis's flat when a small blur appeared in the doorway to the bedroom.

"James!" the blur squeaked at him before launching itself with utter abandon at James's legs. It was only after the blur had latched on to James that it resolved itself into the shape of a small boy roughly six or seven years old. James would never have recognised the boy by looking, but through touch, he knew exactly who he was.

"Robbie?" James asked, surprised.

Robbie nodded, tipping his head back to look up at James. "This is my costume, but I'm not sure it worked." 

"It did," James assured him.

"No, I mean…I feel a bit odd. Like I want to run around and splash in puddles and things."

James smiled. "That's what illusion spells do. Not only do they make you seem to be something you're not, they give you the instincts of that thing."

Robbie was now looking at James in wide-eyed panic. "I turned myself into a real little boy?"

"Until this wears off," James said.

Robbie took James's hand in his little one, swinging it idly back and forth. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

"It's all right," James said. "Have you had anything to eat?"

"No," Robbie said, looking slightly embarrassed. "I couldn't reach the stove once I'd done this."

Hathaway looked through the contents of the fridge. "Hmm. How do you feel about fish fingers?"

Robbie gasped as though Hathaway had asked him if he'd like to be a superhero. "I love them! Can we really have them?"

"Of course we can," Hathaway said, giving Robbie a fond smile.

As they were eating, Robbie said, "It's funny."

"What is?"

"I thought I remembered loads of things about being little. But now it seems there's loads I've forgotten."

Hathaway nodded. He would never have cast a childhood illusion spell on himself, as he wasn't at all anxious to revisit his childhood, or who he had been at the time. "If you want me to undo the spell, I can."

"No," Robbie said. "I think I like it for now." He'd finished his dinner and was now bouncing impatiently in his seat. "Can we watch telly when you're done?"

Hathaway nodded. "Of course."

Robbie curled up against Hathaway as they sat on the sofa, his small arms trying in vain to reach round Hathaway's middle for a hug. "I like this."

Hathaway couldn't keep the amusement from his voice. "We sit together all the time."

"That's not what I mean," Robbie said, voice quiet.

Hathaway nodded, giving Robbie a one-armed hug. "I'm listening."

"It's scary being small. I forgot that," Robbie said. "But you're big enough I'm safe."

Hathaway smiled. "That's nice. Thank you."

There was an old monster movie on, but when Hathaway paused on that channel, Robbie shivered and hid his face against Hathaway's shirt.

"All right?" Hathaway asked gently.

Robbie shook his head adamantly. "I don't like monsters."

"We'll find something nicer to watch then," Hathaway said.

They settled on a brightly-coloured, clever cartoon that caught both Robbie's and Hathaway's attention. But Robbie didn't last all the way through the programme; he fell asleep nestled against Hathaway, thumb planted firmly in his mouth.

Hathaway turned off the television and gently lifted Robbie, who clung to him sleepily.

"Where we going?" Robbie mumbled around his thumb.

"To bed," Hathaway said softly. "Come on. I'll tuck you in."

He put Robbie to bed in his own bed; he'd spend the night on the sofa. As he moved to leave, Robbie caught his hand.

"I love you, James," Robbie said.

Hathaway gave Robbie's hand a squeeze. "I love you too, Robbie. Goodnight."

Robbie nodded, eyelids drooping already. "Night."

Hathaway held his hand a moment longer, until Robbie's fingers lost their grip, and then he moved Robbie's hand gently to the top of the covers before padding silently out of the room. He turned back at the door, just to check Robbie was all right.

Robbie was smiling in his sleep.

***

Hathaway woke early the next morning and tiptoed to his room to see how Lewis was doing. He was still asleep, but he'd returned to his adult self.

Lewis stirred, opened his eyes, and gave Hathaway a warm smile. 

"Good morning," Hathaway said with an answering smile.

"Thank you," Lewis said. "For last night. I hope I didn't embarrass you."

"Not at all," Hathaway said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You were very sweet."

"I'm always that," Lewis said, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled.

Hathaway laughed. "True."

Lewis sat up, leaning toward Hathaway and running his fingers lightly up and down Hathaway's arm. "I'm still not used to this."

"What? Us this?"

"No," Lewis said with a slight shake of his head. "That magic can give you experiences you couldn't have any other way. I was a little boy yesterday for the first time in fifty years. You grew up knowing things like that could happen. For me, it's…" He shook his head. "Very different."

"I understand."

Lewis's fingers stilled, and he met Hathaway's eyes. "I won't forget. Any of it."

Hathaway didn't know what to say, so he simply nodded and held Lewis's gaze. "Okay."

Lewis smiled slightly. "Okay." He gave Hathaway's shoulder a squeeze. "Come on. I'll make you breakfast."

"You don't have to do that to say thank you. Thanks aren't necessary."

"That's not why I'm doing it," Lewis said, kissing Hathaway's cheek gently. "Come on. I could do with another pair of hands."

Hathaway smiled. "I'm right behind you."


	27. Many Parts

James entered the facility a few minutes after it opened; he'd gotten there early and had been waiting in his car.

The receptionist, Siobhan, greeted him at the desk. "Must be Wednesday if you're here, James."

James managed a nod, but he kept his face impassive and didn't say anything. He couldn't make small talk--not here, not at this place.

Siobhan hesitated. "He's not very well today. Lots of changes."

James nodded, feeling a muscle in his jaw tense. "I understand."

"You might want to wait for another day," Siobhan said.

James met her eyes. "Have I ever waited for another day?"

Siobhan shook her head. "I expect you know where his room is by now, but I'll have Paul walk you down there. Just in case you need him."

James couldn't imagine a situation in which Paul was going to be any bloody use to him, but he nodded all the same.

He could imagine that, if you didn't have someone you loved living here, this could seem a very nice place indeed. But James could feel the weight of the charms on this place, cast to damp down the magic of the people who lived here and the charms that were afflicting them, and it felt oppressive. It felt like a prison.

Paul unlocked the door to Robbie's room. "Give us a shout if you need help."

 _I won't_ , James thought, but all he said was, "Thank you."

Robbie was sitting on his bed, and at James's entry he looked up. "James?"

"It's me," James said. He'd learnt over the course of his many visits to leave it to Robbie to make the first move, to allow Robbie to act within his own comfort zone.

"Sweetheart. Thank God." Robbie's face flooded with relief, and he had his arms around James in a moment. "I didn't know where you were, and they wouldn't tell me anything."

"I'm all right," James said, feeling a weariness creep through him. He'd reassured so many iterations of Robbie, and it never got any less heartbreaking.

Robbie stood on his toes to kiss James, then whispered, "Never mind. You're here now." Then he frowned. "Since when are you blond?"

The trouble with Robbie's mental shifts through every conceivable version of himself was that the James Robbie remembered wasn't always the James James was.

James sidestepped the question. "Do you like it?"

Robbie ran a hand through James's hair experimentally, and then he smiled. "I think I do."

"Good," James said. He longed to lean into the touch, to recapture some of the intimacy he'd once shared with Robbie, his Robbie, but it was too much of a risk. Their bond had gone with the casting of this bloody charm, whatever it was, and it was too risky to get close to Robbie on a day he could change personas in the space of a heartbeat. It had hurt too much the first few times for James to try again now.

Robbie fitted his body against James's, resting his head on James's shoulder, and James couldn't help feeling the emptiness that came with the loss of their bond. He should have been feeling whatever Robbie was feeling now. Instead, there was nothing.

"I don't like this place. I want to go home," Robbie said.

"I wish you could," James said, hoping his voice hadn't betrayed his emotion. He'd tried looking after Robbie at Robbie's flat first, but it had been a disaster, one that had nearly ended with Robbie casting a very nasty charm on James when he'd thought James was a burglar. Only James's protection charm had saved him.

Robbie sighed. "Where are we?"

"It's a facility for people who've been on the receiving end of charms that have gone wrong," James said.

Robbie frowned up at James. "Who cast a charm on me?"

"You did," James said, holding back everything else he wanted to say. _Why did you do it? What were you trying to do? Why didn't you tell me so I could stop you or do a counterspell that would bring you back?_

"And it went wrong?"

"It did," James said. He had thought that explaining this over and over again would deaden him to the experience, but it hadn't. It hurt every time.

Robbie kissed him again. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," James lied. It would never be all right.

A look of confusion came into Robbie's eyes, and James gently disengaged himself from Robbie so that they were no longer embracing, waiting for the next Robbie to appear.

A wild, frenzied look came into Robbie's eyes, and James steeled himself. Robbie threw himself at the door, pounding against it with both hands.

"Let me out," Robbie shouted. "Let me out! You can't keep me here! I want to know what I'm charged with!"

When Robbie turned from the door to survey the room, Paul slipped quietly into the room, in case Robbie got violent and James needed help. That hurt too. Everything hurt in this place.

Robbie leaned against the wall, trying to get control of himself. He glanced at James. "Who are you?"

It cut a little deeper every time Robbie asked. James put on his best 'policeman' face. "DS Hathaway, sir."

"Another policeman?" Sometimes that calmed Robbie; sometimes it didn't. This time it did. "What did they charge you with? They're not allowed to have us in here until they charge us with something." He glared at the door.

"I don't think we're under arrest," James said.

"Course we are. I know a prison when I see one," Robbie said. He shuddered. "I hate prisons."

"So do I," James said quietly.

Robbie looked at James for a moment, and then he smiled. "It's the copper in us, eh?"

James tried to smile. "It must be." He turned away for a moment.

"Something wrong, lad?" Robbie's voice was unbelievably kind.

"I miss you," James said.

Silence.

James turned to see what had happened.

Robbie stood there, expression faintly lost. "James?"

James took a cautious step toward him. 

Robbie seemed to be concentrating hard. "I feel peculiar. The charm…has it…?"

The charm. Robbie knew about the charm. Which meant…James grabbed for Robbie's hand with clumsy, anxious fingers, and he he could almost breathe again as their bond snapped into place and he felt Robbie's confusion and disorientation. This was his Robbie.

"Tell me what spell you cast," James said. "Quickly!"

"I can't remember," Robbie said. 

"What did it do?" James said.

"I was meant to know everything," Robbie said. "That's what it said. James, what happened? I feel…"

The bond flickered, and James gripped Robbie's hand more tightly, trying desperately to keep the bond in place, to keep his Robbie here. "Stay with me."

Robbie's grip tightened in response. "I'm trying." He met James's eyes. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to be clever enough for you."

"You always were," James said, voice breaking on the last word.

Robbie's eyes grew vague. "In my head, it's all a muddle." The bond flickered again, and this time, James knew it was failing. Robbie knew too, and was frightened. James tried to send him consolation through the bond but couldn't tell if it was working.

"It's all right," James said. "It will be all right. I'll find you and bring you back. I promise." 

Robbie nodded, and then the bond broke. James had never felt so hollow.

Robbie pulled his hand away from James's. "No more lies. Tell me the truth."

"The truth?"

"Where's Val?" Robbie demanded. "What have you done with her? Where is she?"

This was the sort of scenario where James had to lie, and he didn't like it at all. "We're trying to find out, sir."

"Well, let me out of here and I'll help you," Robbie said. He made a sudden feint toward James, trying to catch him off guard, but James was ready for him, and dodged. Then, before James could do anything else, Paul had subdued Robbie in a tight hold to keep him from trying to get away.

"Don't hurt him," James said, voice wobbling a bit.

But Robbie was struggling and swearing and livid now. "If you've done anything with Val…bloody bastards! I'll kill you!"

Paul sighed, looking at James. "I think you'd better go."

The look in Robbie's eyes changed again, and he resumed his struggle against Paul…not an angry struggle now, but a panicked struggle. "What are you doing? I've done nothing wrong!" He turned his attention to James. "Please! Don't let them do this to me! Help me!"

"I don't know how," James whispered. "I'm sorry." He turned to go.

"Wait!" Robbie called behind him. "Please, wait!"

For the first time, as James left, he wondered whether someday seeing Robbie like this would grow too unbearable for him to return.

***

"You think this is helping?" Innocent asked from the doorway.

James didn't look up from the pile of papers in front of him. "I need to work."

"If you want to be there with Robbie…"

"He's not there," James snapped. Then he caught himself, took a deep breath, and said more calmly, "Being there doesn't help."

Innocent entered the office. "How long since you've eaten?"

"I'm not hungry," James said.

"That wasn't the question, but since you mention it, yes, you are. Taking care of yourself won't stop him getting better."

"He's not getting better, ma'am," James said, looking up at her. "He's getting worse."

Innocent nodded. Apparently she'd known at least part of that already. Sometimes it was a gift that she could see the truth of things with her magic, and that he didn't have to explain anything to her.

"He's on a treatment plan?" she asked.

"If you count them crossing their fingers as a treatment plan."

"That's not fair."

James sighed, closing his eyes for a minute. She was right. "No."

Innocent slipped into the chair on the other side of James's desk. "I went to see him."

James stared at her. "When?"

"A few days ago. I thought I might be able to see what was wrong."

"You couldn't."

"I could see it," Innocent said, expression grim. "His mind in tiny fragments, every fragment another Robbie-who-might-have-been."

James nodded. "That's all anyone can see, including me. The spell was only ever in his mind, and that's exactly the part of him he's smashed to bits." He turned his gaze back to the papers on his desk. "I've been through his flat more than once. He didn't write anything down. I think he…" James's breath hitched for a moment. "He wanted to surprise me."

"With what?" Innocent asked.

"He wanted to be _clever_ enough for me." James didn't bother to hide his bitterness. "He said he wanted to know everything."

"Is that exactly what he said?" Innocent's voice was taut now, tense.

James frowned at her. "Yes. I asked him what spell he used, and he said he didn't know, just that he wanted to know everything."

Innocent jumped to her feet. "I know what he's done."

"What? How can you?" James was on his feet too, work forgotten.

"There was a case, before he came back and before you were here…Finley? Foster?" Innocent thought a moment, then snapped her fingers. "Fenster. Come on--we should have it in our files."

Miles Fenster, it seemed, had been an undergraduate at Clare College who had favoured the illicit magical form of swotting up for his nonmagical exams. But something had gone wrong. He'd been found weeping behind a rosebush, half-naked, and no one who'd asked him questions had received sensible answers.

James pored over a list of materials that had been found in Fenster's rooms, and then he frowned. "He had a fifth edition Turgeon."

"Unorthodox," Innocent said.

James shook his head. "More than unorthodox, ma'am. The fifth edition was the first one Turgeon didn't translate herself. It was notoriously unreliable in the effects of its charms due to bad translations, so much so that it was taken off the market, and every copy that could be found was destroyed."

"But you would've found it in Robbie's flat, wouldn't you?" Innocent asked.

James nodded slowly. "If he had the whole book. But if he only had copies of the pages he wanted, or…" He looked at Innocent. "Digital photos. I haven't checked his digital photos."

"Go on," Innocent said with a nod. "We can manage without you."

"Thank you, ma'am." 

For the first time, James allowed himself to think there might be hope after all.

***

Finding the photos of the charm from Turgeon on Robbie's computer was easy enough. Finding the original charms that had been translated badly was a bit harder, but thank God for the Bodleian, which had copies of the source materials, though James had to sign nearly seventy forms in triplicate promising that he would not cast any of the charms himself.

James set the two versions of the charm side by side, examining them thoroughly. Strangely enough, the translation of the charm itself was dead accurate--whoever had done that work had done a very good job. The trouble was in the definition of what the charm did; here the limits of the translator's skill showed. What the translator had written as "to know everything" actually translated directly as "to be everyone." And this charm wasn't meant to be a tool of self-improvement; it was a weapon.

Robbie had cast a charm designed to be a weapon on himself, and because he'd been the one casting it, it had ignored his protective charm and had taken effect anyway. Bloody hell.

Now if only there was a countercharm that could undo the damage…and if there wasn't one, James suspected he could create one, given enough time. But he hoped that wouldn't be necessary.

He set to work.

***

Siobhan gave James a look of surprise. "Back so soon?"

"I need to ask you a favour," James said.

Siobhan arched an eyebrow and waited.

"I need you to take the magic protections off his room," James said.

Siobhan snorted. "Why not take them off everyone's while I'm at it?"

"Please. I think I have the countercharm for what he did to himself, and I don't have enough magic to cast it underneath all those dampening charms."

Siobhan sighed. "You really think you can help him?"

"I really do," James said.

Siobhan gave him a 'I'll do it, but I'm not pleased about this' look. "You have fifteen minutes. Paul will be outside the door, and if anything goes wrong, he's going to let me know and the charms go right back up."

"I understand," James said.

Siobhan hesitated, then said, "He's a bit better. Not changing so often. You might have a chance."

"Thank you," James said, setting off down the hall.

When James entered Robbie's room, Robbie was sitting on the bed, with his back to the door.

"Robbie?" James said.

Robbie turned to look at James, wide-eyed. Then he hid his face. "Don't look at me, James. Please."

James approached him. "Why not?"

"Something's gone wrong. I don't know how. Shapechanging charms aren't even meant to exist."

James sat beside Robbie on the bed. "Someone's changed your shape?" This had happened once or twice before…sometimes versions of Robbie expected his physical appearance to be different. Or her physical appearance, as the case might be, because some of the versions of every-possible-Robbie were women.

Robbie sniffled, turning away from James. "I don't want you to see."

"I don't have to see if you don't want me to," James said. "But how you look won't change how I feel about you." He rested a gentle hand on Robbie's shoulder.

"It's all wrong," Robbie whispered.

"I'm sure that's how it feels," James said. He could feel the protective charms being dropped around Robbie's room--he was going to have to try his countercharm very soon, to be sure that he got it all in before the dampening charms went back up. "But give me a few minutes, Robbie, and I'll have everything put right again." _Please let that be true._

Robbie leaned back into his touch. "Promise?"

"I promise," James said. And with that, he began to speak the countercharm.

When James finished, he was silent for a few moments. Not long after that, the dampening charms on the room buzzed back into place, sounding for all the world like the hum of fluorescent lights. James moved his hand away from Robbie's shoulder in case the countercharm hadn't worked.

Robbie turned to face James. James held his breath.

"Did you do it? Is it me?" Robbie whispered.

James frowned at him, feeling an inner surge of anxiety. "You don't know?"

"I don't remember exactly what I was like before the charm," Robbie said. "I've been so many different people since then."

"But you do remember casting the charm," James said.

Robbie nodded. "Aye, I remember that. And the fog in my mind has cleared."

"Then you must be my Robbie," James said. There was an easier way to check--their bond--and with his heart in his throat, James stretched out his hand to Robbie.

Robbie looked at James's hand for a moment, and though their bond wasn't in place yet, James could tell that Robbie was just as nervous as James was. Robbie slipped his hand into James's, holding on tight.

Nothing. No sign of a bond at all.

Robbie went completely pale and dropped James's hand as though it had stung him. "It didn't work…"

Privately, James wondered about the same thing, but he certainly wasn't going to say that to Robbie. "We don't know that."

"The bond was there even when I was ill," Robbie said, getting up from the bed and beginning to pace. "When I broke through, whenever that was, and you took my hand, it was still there then."

James stood. "You see? You remember that. I must have brought you back if you remember that."

"I remember everything!" Robbie shouted, turning to face James. "Being the me who knew you and the me who didn't, and being the me who didn't even know me." He turned away, voice growing softer. "The bond was going to help me be sure. It was going to tell me." He sighed. "I don't know who I am now."

James took a few steps toward Robbie. "Maybe that's why the bond isn't back yet. Not because you're not the right Robbie, but because you're not sure."

"So it's my fault." Robbie didn't sound angry when he said it, just sad.

"You think it's mine?" James asked, with more of an edge to his voice than he meant to have.

Robbie's shoulders slumped, and he shook his head. "No."

James stood there silently, waiting. If this experience had taught him anything, it had taught him to wait and see what Robbie might need before doing anything himself.

"Are you going to leave me here?" Robbie whispered.

James raised his eyebrows. "That depends. Are you going to try to cast another coma charm on me?"

He'd meant it as an attempt at humour, but Robbie drew in a sharp breath and spun to face James, his eyes deep with misery and his mouth trembling. "I'm…I'm so sorry…I've been so…" He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, nodding. "You should leave me here."

"No," James said. 

"But I'm dangerous."

"I don't think you are. You haven't changed once while we've been talking. The charm's been lifted; the others are gone." James reached out to take Robbie's hand. Still nothing. "Now it's just the two of us. And I think I can manage one of you."

Robbie looked down at their joined hands. "How can you stand it, James?"

"The bond not being there?" James asked.

Robbie nodded.

James looked down at their hands, then back at Robbie's face. "Because I have to." 

He wouldn't lie; it hurt. If the bond never came back between them, that would hurt too…and James hadn't even begun to think about what sort of bondsickness one or both of them might suffer from if the bond remained destroyed. But that was a problem for another day.

Robbie met James's eyes and nodded his understanding.

"Being in your flat will be somewhere familiar," James said, doing his best to be reassuring. "And you won't have that magic-dampening stuff hanging over you all the time."

Robbie almost laughed at that. "Dunno what it's like to you, but to me it sounds like that hum when you turn on a light at the office."

James felt a jolt of hope inside him. "Fluorescent lights."

Robbie nodded. "Yeah."

He'd been touching Robbie then, when the dampening charms had come back on. And he'd heard the same sound Robbie had heard. In fact, he could hear it now, holding Robbie's hand. He let go of Robbie's hand, and the sound vanished, though the damp, heavy feeling of the charm was still there.

Robbie was studying James's face. "You're going to have to tell me, James. I can't read your thoughts any more."

"You can hear the magic," James said.

"Course I can. I always…" Robbie's lips parted in surprise as he understood what James was suggesting. "I always could." There was a smile in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "It's me, isn't it? The real me."

James nodded. "It is."

Robbie gave James's hand a grateful squeeze. "Thank you." He looked around his room, pulling a face at his surroundings. "Think you can get me out today? I haven't exactly got the best memories of this place."

James grinned. "I think Siobhan will be happy to see you go."

"Oi!" Robbie said.

James rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

Robbie gave James a warm look, still holding tight to his hand. "I do."

***

"There's something else," James said, as he was driving Robbie home to his flat.

Robbie looked over at James, grimacing slightly. "Something good or something bad?"

"Something interesting," James said. "When you were touching me, I could hear the dampening charm too."

"Then…the bond's not gone?" 

"Just working differently."

Robbie sighed in relief. "And it might go back to normal."

"It might." James hoped it would, but at least they knew it hadn't been completely demolished. Just…reshaped, for now.

"You must feel something, though, when you touch me," Robbie said. "Since your magic works by touch and all."

"No, actually," James said, trying to sound nonchalant about it. "You seem to have…blocked yourself from me in some way."

"Oh." Robbie sounded deeply contrite. "Sorry."

"We'll just have to talk to each other more," James said. He'd have to pretend it didn't bother him that his magic couldn't reveal to him the one person he actively wanted to know about. James was sure Robbie felt guilty enough. "Though obviously we'll both hate that."

Robbie snorted. "Obviously." 

James parked outside Robbie's flat, letting them both in with the key he'd taken from Robbie's things when Robbie hadn't been well.

Once Robbie was inside, he glanced around the flat. "You've had a tidy in here, haven't you?"

"I had to. You should've seen the mess I made."

"Mess _you_ made? When?"

James gestured vaguely. "When I went through your things to try to find a copy of the charm you'd used."

"Ah," Robbie said, looking massively uncomfortable. "I'm…so sorry, James. I can't imagine what you must've been through."

James shrugged. "It's in the past now, and I'd rather not think about it."

"Right."

"What about you?" James asked. "Are you feeling more sure of yourself now?"

"Still a bit shaky, but nowhere near where I was," Robbie said, settling onto the sofa. "It'll take time."

James sat beside him. "Can I help?"

"I don't know," Robbie admitted. It seemed to cost him to admit such a thing, and he reached over and tentatively took James's hand. "But it wouldn't hurt to try."

James stretched his arm round Robbie. "Come on, then. It's been ages since we had a cuddle as ourselves."

"Yes, please," Robbie murmured, leaning against James's side. He seemed exhausted.

James was tired too. He'd managed to keep himself running on sheer adrenaline, but it was draining to cast such an extensive countercharm. Now that things were more settled, James was beginning to be caught out by his own exhaustion. James didn't have enough magic left to charm up a cup of tea at the moment…but then, he didn't need to. He only needed to rest, knowing that Robbie, his Robbie, was here, and that he had helped to bring him back.

The last thing he heard before he fell asleep was the infinitely comforting sound of Robbie snoring.

*** 

James dreamt he was in a room with no furniture and no windows. Guitar music cascaded gently through the air, and the music sounded familiar, though James was sure he hadn't heard it before. Oh, of course…guitar music.

Everyone with magic had, when they began using it, some sort of sign of his magic left over after he'd cast a charm. Robbie, for instance, had found that things tended to go blue in colour when he used his magic on them. James's magic signature hadn't been visual like Robbie's; instead, a few notes of music had seemed to hover in the air after James had cast a charm. The music playing in this room…it must be James's magic.

For the first time, James noticed a glass box in the centre of the room. He took a few steps toward it, squinting at what was inside. It looked like some sort of glowing…

"Don't touch that!" Robbie interposed himself between James and the box.

"Why not?" James asked, folding his arms.

"It's too dangerous," Robbie said.

James looked at the box again. It seemed to contain a glowing, sparkling blue mist. "You've locked your magic away?"

"When I think about casting a charm, I just…freeze. All over. And I can't breathe."

James nodded. "I understand." He was thinking of accidentally smashed mirrors and broken windows. 

Robbie turned to look at the box, his back to James now. "Every time I changed, James…it was like I died. Over and over. Every single one of me."

James stepped forward, resting his hands lightly on Robbie's upper back. "I'm so sorry."

Robbie shook his head. "Magic's not a toy. I think I thought it was. Even when I saw other people do stupid or terrible things with it, I thought I was cleverer than that. I was so bloody smug." 

James took a step closer, hoping that if Robbie could feel him close by, it would help in some way. "And now?"

Robbie exhaled, head and shoulders sagging forward. "I don't know." He turned to face James, resting his head against James's chest. "Tell me what to do."

James hugged Robbie tight, and Robbie returned the embrace.

"I think," James said carefully, "that you should trust yourself the way I trust you."

There was a sudden popping noise, and suddenly, the glass box had gone and they were surrounded by the blue, glittery glow of Robbie's magic.

Robbie inhaled sharply and tried to pull away from James. "No…"

"Wait," James said, catching Robbie gently by the arms. "Just wait."

The blue swirled around them, ferociously at first, but never touching them. Then, the longer it spun round, the more it calmed down, until it stopped moving altogether and was simply hovering there in the air.

Robbie stared at his magic as it floated gently around them. "Why does my magic sound like guitar music?"

James smiled slightly. "That's me."

Robbie looked at James, clearly delighted by something. "Your magic sounds like music? You never told me."

James gave Robbie a quizzical look. "I didn't know it was important."

"You haven't worked it out?" Robbie said. "Your magic signature is music, and my magic works through hearing."

James laughed in surprise. "No, I hadn't worked it out."

"Too bad you can't touch…" Robbie gestured vaguely to his magic. "…blue."

James gave Robbie a mischievous look. "Who says you can't?" He reached out to Robbie's magic with one hand.

"James-!" Robbie cut off his alarmed words when he saw that the magic wasn't attacking or hurting James.

James ran his fingertips lightly over the surface of Robbie's magic, gently taking a handful of it. It had the weight and texture of candy floss as it pulled away from the larger mass. He brought his hand to rest in between them so Robbie could see the tiny, wispy sparkling fluff that sat in his hand.

"How did you know touching it wouldn't do something terrible?" Robbie asked.

James shrugged. "Because it's you."

Robbie reached out to touch his own magic timidly, ready to pull back quickly if it sparked or hurt him in some way…but it didn't. So he rested his hand atop the bit of magic, with James's hand still underneath it. All of Robbie's magic, the bit in James's hand and the swirling cloud all around them, began to glow more and more brightly, until they had to shield their eyes…

***

James woke suddenly, blinking, to find that they were still on the sofa. Beside him, Robbie jumped into wakefulness as well.

"Bloody hell. What was that?" Robbie asked, his surprise easy for James to feel. Then he turned to look at James. "Say that again?"

"I didn't say anything," James said, a slow, uncertain hope building within him.

Robbie rested a hand on James's arm, and then looked into James's eyes, his own joy bubbling away inside him. "I can feel you. But how…?"

"When you took your magic out of the box," James said, putting the pieces together, "I think you fixed the bond."

"Yeah?" Robbie said, delight rushing through the bond. Delight and…and the desire to kiss James, apparently.

"Go on," James said. "Don't just think about it."

Robbie chuckled deep in his throat and moved in for a kiss.

They were together this time. Truly.


End file.
